Volume Three: Villians
by EJ Malfoy
Summary: What happens when a brother is harmed or a friend is betrayed? Is it justice we seek or revenge we crave? Are we heroes or are we villians? An original take on the third volume of Heroes. UPDATE: Chapter 5 posted!
1. Parental Loss

**_Greenlake, TX_**

On the side of Highway 40 nearing Austin, a gas station sits between an all night diner and a small bookstore. It is a Gas 'N Go, the logo of a handyman stick figure in mid-run revolving by the roadside. It has a rustic feel even though the few cars in the parking lot seem to represent just how out of touch it is. A gust of wind looks like a wave of rolling tumbleweed, but it passes too quickly to really tell. Moderately busy, it's a place to stop-and-go before heading out towards either downtown Austin or the outskirts of Houston. Though quiet and serene, it doesn't last long.

A rock and roll riff loudly enters as a red, slightly scratched convertible with a large dent in the front-right side pulls up. It calls attention to itself as do those riding in it. The driver, wearing a gray T-shirt, wrinkled jeans and sunglasses, looks around before pulling up to a spot in front of the convenience store. He has short black hair that spikes up casually and that he can't stop running a hand through. He grins over at the passenger who sits slumped in his seat, wearing a dark blue long-sleeved shirt, red jacket, and black pants. The blonde-haired, green-eyed man glances over at the driver, but turns away, unimpressed.

"We're here," says the driver. When the passenger doesn't respond, he flicks him on the ear. "I'm talkin' to you, stupid!"

"Quit it, Jay…" The passenger brushes the flick off.

"Hey." The passenger doesn't respond. "Hey!" Jay backhands him in the arm and the passenger looks over at him. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," he says with a shrug.

"If you're not up to it, it's alright. We can pull out and you –"

"I'm fine, Jay!" He gives Jay a look that seals his agreement.

"Okay, okay. Just checking." Jay grins. "You don't have to throw it at me." The passenger can't help but smile. "Now, if you don't mind, I'll be right back." The passenger nods and slumps a little more in his seat. Jay shakes his head and exits the car, going into the convenience store.

Inside, a few people are in line while another few are browsing the shelves. Jay scans the room briefly before picking up a Mountain Dew, bag of chips, and some Skittles. He joins the line and pays for his snacks, giving the cashier a small smile. The cashier, a big burly man with a thick mustache and beady blue eyes, doesn't return it as he gives him change.

Jay jumps back in the car, setting his Mountain Dew in the cup holder and tossing the other snacks into the back. He takes a deep breath and turns to the passenger.

"It's going to empty out pretty soon, so I'd say do it then." He speaks in a low, but audible tone. The passenger listens intently. "There's a security camera on the doorway, but it doesn't look like it covers much else. The guy at the register is big, but dumb. A shot to the ceiling should cover that."

"Anything else I need to know? Like how to act mean and tough?" The passenger gives him a smirk.

"Shut up, Billy." Jay makes a swipe at him, but Billy's already out of the car and rounding the front. "I get it. It's not your first time. Still, doesn't mean you should get sloppy."

"Like the Bolton service station?"

"Don't even bring that up, man." Jay cringes and his grin falters. "Just get it done and get it done quick."

"Quick is the least of my problems." They both laugh.

"I guess Billy Baker strikes again," Jay says and knocks fists with his best friend. He grins, starts up the car and pulls away. Billy watches as the convertible drives out of sight before entering the store. As the door closes behind him, words appear on the glass.

**VOLUME THREE  
****Villians**

Billy faces the floor as he enters, making sure the camera doesn't get a good look at him. He heads for the back of the store, where a TV hung on the wall above the drink refrigerators is playing the news. He eyes the Pepsis, sure to keep at least one trained on the cashier behind him. The last person in line was paying for their gas. He didn't have long to wait now.

The TV above him suddenly springs to life, sprouting BREAKING NEWS over and over on the bottom marquee.

"It seems that there is an important press conference being held _live_," the female anchor says with relish. "We take you now to the events in progress." The screen changes. An important looking man stands at a podium, flashes of cameras going off around him as he begins to speak.

"Good afternoon," he says, his voice labored. "Most of you have no idea who I am. My name is Nathan Petrelli and I was elected to Congress in the state of New York. It seems like that was a long time ago."

Billy tunes him out. Politics bored him and politicians _talking_ about politics bored him even more. The bell to the front door rings. Billy turns to see the cashier picking at a scab on his hand. Now or never.

He reaches into his jacket pockets and grabs a mask and a gun. Pulling the mask on tightly, he takes a deep breath and points the gun at the ceiling.

BANG!

The scattered people in the store freeze immediately and head for the floor. Even the cashier stops what he is doing to stare fixedly at the weapon in Billy's hands.

"Everybody shut up and get on the ground!" Billy points the gun at the cashier. "Give me all the money in the register!"

The few people in the store follow his directions, but the cashier stays put. Billy walks directly up to him, the gun inches from his chest.

"Give… me… the money." Not angry, not scared. Cool as a cucumber.

"…No," the cashier says, a small quiver in his voice. Billy sighs exasperatedly. He cocks the gun and re-adjusts his aim toward the cashier's head.

"I'm going to give you to the count of three. 1…"

The cashier doesn't move.

"2…"

A mere flinch, but he still stays his ground.

_BANG! BANG!_ Screams erupt from the television behind him. Billy turns his attention to the people on the screen. The congressman falls into the arms of one of the people who had been standing behind him. Chaos rules as the cameras flash to catch the dying man on film. And as soon as Billy realized what he'd just done, he felt foolish. He turns back around to find the cashier reaching for a shot gun under the counter. He does the only thing he can think of doing.

BANG! A shot goes whizzing over the cashier's head and into the shelf behind him. Magazines come crashing down over his head. Before he knows it, he hears the faint _ching_ of his register closing and barely blinks his eyes before the door opens, the bell rings, and the man who had been standing in front of him is gone. What the heck just happened?

Meanwhile, on the open road a few miles away from the gas station, Billy kicked up dust behind him as he ran at super speed down the highway looking for the checkpoint in the blurry world around him. In a few seconds, the gas station was left far behind. By the time he had counted to ten he had almost reached the point where the convertible was parked on the side of the road ten miles away from where he'd been. Slowing, he skidded to a halt, raised more dust and stood next to the driver's side door where Jay sat waiting.

"You took long enough," he said in mild amusement as he looked up through the gathering dust. Billy was catching his breath and the dust didn't help.

"I only got what was in the register."

"That's it?" Jay frowned. "What about the safe?"

"Would have taken too long. The guy pulled a gun on me." Billy rounded the car, breathing heavily and coughing as he stepped inside.

"So, does this mean you didn't get my smokes?"

Billy rolled his eyes and handed a pack of Brandt brand cigarettes to Jay.

"That's what I'm talking about." He laughed and started up the car again. Billy smiled. Life in the fast lane… it was worth it.

**_Odessa, TX  
Nathan, Peter, and Matt_**

_BANG! BANG!_

He slumped without meaning to. What was happening? What was this feeling of slowly falling backward? It was as though two bees had stung him in the chest and caused the world to move in slow motion. His mind had been dead-set on revealing his ability to the world at large, but someone else seemed to have other plans.

"Oh my God!"

"He's been shot!"

"Nathan Petrelli's been shot!"

He fell backward into someone's arms. His eyes blurry, he looked up to see his brother holding him.

**Who are those we fear to lose?**

"Nathan… Nathan!!"

"Peter…" Nathan barely could hear him, barely could see, barely could speak. "Peter, I…"

"Did you see him, Peter? I saw someone leaving! I _know_ I saw someone leaving!" Matt's voice broke through the crowd of screams and flashing lights, but everything continued to swim before his eyes.

**Are they our friends? Our family?**

Suddenly, he was moving again, much faster and colors flew past his gaze.

"Move!" Peter's voice boomed much louder than usual as he pushed past a gaggle of shaken reporters. Nathan started to feel lighter, his head sagging.

"Peter… I can't…"

"No, you _can_! I _know_ you can!" He pushed roughly through a pair of double doors and started down a hallway, moving farther and farther from the excited group in the press room.

**The loss of a friend may cause the heart to slow, but the loss of a family member will cause our hearts to stop.**

Along the wall as they pass, bold block letters appear on the hallway wall.

**Chapter One  
Parental Loss**

"Hey, hold on!" Matt's footsteps clapped on the tiles as he ran to catch up. "Where are you going, Peter?"

"I have to get him to a hospital," Peter replied, still walking quickly.

"They've already called an ambulance. I'm sure they'll –" Peter stopped, Nathan shaking heavily in his arms.

"_I_ can get him there quicker!" A moment's pause and Peter was off again with Matt on his tail. Farther and farther they moved from the group of reporters. Deeper and deeper, Nathan felt himself fall into an unmoving state. As they made their way through a second set of double doors, Nathan groaned sleepily, knowing he didn't have much left.

"…Peter…" His lips hardly moved as his consciousness slipped into complete darkness.

"_Hang on, Nathan_…" But the plea fell on deaf ears. "_Just hang on…!_"

**_New York City  
Mohinder, Maya, Elle and Molly_**

He held her tightly, eyes tearing, like a bear to her cubs, like a father to his daughter. "Mohinder!" Molly exclaimed through the embrace, muffled and out of breath. "Mohinder, I can't breathe!" A slight giggle. He didn't care if she couldn't breathe. She was alive. That was all that mattered. Sylar had nearly killed them all and yet she was _alive_.

Maya smiled at them softly, her hands gently touching the spot where she had been shot less than an hour ago. Mohinder watched her glance down every few minutes as though the mark, which was long since gone, would never fade.

"Well, could you just do it already?!" From across the battered room, Elle paced back and forth with an electric glow in her eyes. She had been fighting to get a hold of her father, Bob, for twenty minutes now and it did seem peculiar that she could not get a hold of him. "This is his daughter. _His daughter_. I don't care if he's busy, this is important! …Well, could you at least – _I just __**saved**__ Dr. Suresh from Sylar, could you tell him __**that**__?!_"

"Mohinder!" He eased off of the child in his embrace and smiled.

"Well, _fine_!" Elle shouted into the phone. "Just tell him… Tell him… _Ugh!!_" She shut the phone roughly.

"Is something wrong?" Maya asked. Elle huffed in place, glancing back over at the huddled group. She cleared her throat inaudibly and took a calming deep breath.

"It's fine," Elle said. Mohinder wasn't so sure by the way she fumbled one-handed to put the phone back into her jean pocket. "He's just busy. Always too busy."

Mohinder stood and walked toward her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure he would come to the phone if he could." He may not have known Bob well, but surely he cared enough for his own daughter to realize when she needed his help. Then again, the look on Elle's face as she moved away from the hand on her shoulder looked more like a hint of sadness than content.

"What will happen to us now?" Maya stood up, brushing a long black curl back behind her ear.

"Well," Elle said, striding toward her, "I suppose the Company will take you into custody. Now that Sylar's on the loose again, we can't afford to have Dr. Suresh or Molly unprotected."

"And…" Maya hesitated. "And what about me?"

"…I don't know. It depends on…" Elle trailed off, thinking of a way to say it. Mohinder had a funny feeling she meant to say "what you can do for us," but he kept it to himself. "I'm sure my father will think of something. You're one of us, right? Someone special?"

Maya looked toward the floor. "No, I am not special. I am a curse."

"I can help you, Maya," Mohinder piped up. "With some time and the right facilities, anyone can turn their ability into a force for good." Maya smiled weakly.

"It's okay, Maya," Molly said, taking Maya by the hand. "Mohinder will help you."

As Maya takes a firmer grip of Molly's hand, Elle starts to stride across the room toward the way that Sylar exited.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"I'm going after Sylar," Elle said nonchalantly.

"You can't!" Mohinder exclaimed. "He may be at full strength again."

"I took him out an hour ago, how hard could it be to finish him off?"

"He took a case of regenerative blood with him. Claire Bennet's blood."

"Then, it's about time I took it back." And without another word, Elle walked out of the back door to the loft, following the trail Sylar had left.

"Is she going to be okay, Mohinder?" Molly had walked up with Maya, taking his hand with her empty one. Mohinder looked down at her, giving her hand a momentary squeeze, then over at Maya's hopeful face.

"I don't know, Molly. I don't know."

-x-

She scurried down the fire escape looking in each of the covered windows as she passed them. Elle knew it wasn't safe to be running like this with her arm in a sling, but caution was something she couldn't afford right now. All this trouble over one guy who, for all she knew, was slumping by a dumpster. Step after step she went, a hand held forward just in case an attack was launched. To think, she had the chance to capture Sylar. Surely that would make this important enough.

Surely it would make her important enough to her father.

She dropped down from the lowest fire escape with ease and stared around her. An alleyway with one entrance littered with trash and cans and scattered dumpsters. Her free hand shone electric blue as she peered toward the entrance for any sign of him.

A rustle behind her. She turned quickly, ready for the attack, but none came. Sneaking forward, she cautiously moved toward the noise. Footstep after silent footstep she walked. Anticipation quivered in her open outstretched palm. Closer and closer. Just around that dumpster and –

Something rolled forward and she zapped it clean against the brick wall. A cat went running, scared from the commotion. An empty can of spinach ricocheted off the wall with a clunk and clatter. She sighed heavily.

"Great. I look for Sylar and I find Popeye the lunatic cat."

_SMACK!_

She turns again, alert. A dumpster lid had slammed shut. At the street-side end of the alley, a figure whipped around the corner and out of sight. She ran to catch up to whatever it was, but she knew it was too late. Standing at the entrance to the alley, she looked out at the crowded street. Every face and back-of-the-head looked the same. If Sylar had been down that alley moments ago, he was gone now.

But this wouldn't be the last time. Not if she had anything to do with it. An electric fire began to burn in her heart as she returned down the alley. If it was the last thing she ever did, she would catch Sylar.

**_Courier General Hospital  
_****_Houston, TX  
Peter and Nathan Petrelli_**

He sat in the corner of the small room, hands folded, shoulders slumped, eyes never leaving the hospital bed in front of him. His eyes were puffy, unblinking. The room was cold and the fluorescent lights left a pale glow on the edges of the room. The lights made him look like an angel preparing to ascend to heaven.

He _was_ an angel. His brother, the angel. An angel with his wings clipped.

The door opened quickly. "Good heavens…" the first woman gasped. The group stopped at the door, shaken from the very sight.

"Nathan," the second woman whispered, leading two young boys into the room behind her. Peter stood up and watched them cross slowly to both sides of the bed. The Petrelli family was together again.

"Oh, Nathan…" Angela caressed his head gently with a white-gloved hand. "Why, Nathan? Why did it have to be you?" Peter always knew that Nathan was her favorite.

"Peter," Heidi spoke, looking his way. Her eyes were about as puffy as his, more-so as she was still crying. He hugged her. "Thank you for calling us, Peter."

"No problem," he said, half-smiling.

"How is he?"

"The doctors got the bullets out, but they said the internal bleeding may have been too much for him to bear. They're seeing how he does until then, I guess."

"How could this have happened?" Heidi said, her gaze back on Nathan. "He wasn't even a candidate anymore. Who could have done this? What kind of a person would do this?" She turned back to Peter, hopeful for some kind of answer.

"I don't know," Peter said sincerely. He looked over at his mother once again. She had taken off her gloves and was running a hand down his face. The boys were too afraid to go near him, standing behind their grandmother with eyes wide. "I only wish _she_ could be here."

"She?" Heidi asked, puzzled.

"Some girlfriend of Peter's, I suppose," Angela said quickly, eyes darting at Peter. He _knew_ that she knew exactly what he meant.

"It's her right as…"

"Can I talk to you outside, Peter?" A slight tone of strictness in her voice, but she kept calm.

"Ma, I…"

"Outside." Not a request. "Please." Angela walked toward the room's door, averting her eyes from Heidi as she passed. Peter followed her out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Angela led him half-way down the hallway before stopping to give him a piercing stare.

"No," she finally said.

"She's his daughter."

"I said, no, Peter. She has no business here."

"Regenerative blood saved his life the first time, why can't she save him now?"

"Lower your voice." People passed them by, but the sense of caution in her voice made him begin to whisper.

"She deserves to know."

"And she will. But I refuse to let her into that room." She folded the gloves in her hands over and over again. "If she was seen, it would cause suspicion. Suspicion leads to detective work and detective work leads to scandal. Think of your brother's position."

"His _position_?" A whisper would no longer work. "He's _dying_, Ma!"

"Keep your voice down!"

"He's dying and you're worried about _his position_? Were you the one who had to carry him in here? Both times? No, I think you're more worried about _your_ position than his!"

She grabbed his hand and pulled Peter towards her, eyes made of steel, voice at an intense whisper. "My son is dying and all you can think about is a miscreant girl who would only cause trouble. For once in your life, Peter, think of your family first!" Peter pulled away from her grasp roughly.

"I _am_ thinking of my family. _All_ of it. She has every right to be here and you know it!" She glanced away like she always did. "And Nathan wasn't your only son. You had me, too." Frustrated, he shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair before giving her an icy glare of his own. "I'm here, too, Ma."

Peter turned away from her, heading back over toward the door to Nathan's room.

"Don't do anything foolish, Peter." He paused momentarily, not turning to meet her gaze. Foolish, huh? He shrugged it off, but he knew in his heart that he couldn't tell Claire anything. Though angry and sad and rebellious, he couldn't do a damn thing. Re-entering the hospital room, he shuts the door roughly behind him.

_**Austin, TX  
Billy Baker and James Silverton**_

He stared fixedly at the old television in front of him with the remote dangling from his outstretched hand. On the screen, the news was reporting about the man who'd been shot earlier today, the ex-congressman or whatever. All he could think about were those two shots he had heard from the television inside the convenience store that screwed it all up. That was supposed to be the last one, the final job, but he hadn't hit the safe. Damn.

The sound of crunching entered the room and Jay plopped on the couch with a bag of Doritos. Instantly, Jay grabbed the remote with his seasoning-covered hand and started to flip the channels.

"Hey! I was watching that!" Billy made a grab for the remote, but Jay pulled it out of his reach and rolled his eyes, making himself comfortable on his side of the patched cushions.

"You were starin' through it," he said, flipping past channel after channel with no end in sight. "Plus, it was just the news. Not like we care what's on the news, right?" Billy shook his head, sitting back.

"So," Billy almost hesitated to ask. "How much did we get?"

"Two hundred-thirty-four," Jay said, his face sliding into a frown.

"That's it?" The worst intake they'd had in two months. "That – That's barely enough for rent, let alone everything else!"

"Should have hit a bank…"

"Shut up, Jay," Billy said, grabbing for the bag of chips, but Jay pulled it away.

"Lot more money in a bank. Lot more untraceable money."

"Lot more than a fat cashier, too."

"Gas prices aren't helping either," Jay said, finally settling on a channel with women doing aerobics in spandex. His frown momentarily grows into a grin, but Billy grabs him by the collar to make him focus.

"This isn't a time for jokes," Billy said. Jay pulled away from him. "I needed that money."

"We _both_ needed that money," Jay corrected, finally bored of the 'ladies in eighties' show and starting to flip channels again. "But that's what you get when you go after 7-Elevens and Gas 'N Go's. Especially when you don't get what's in the safe."

"That wasn't my fault."

"Course it wasn't…"

"There wasn't time!"

"How would you know?" Jay stared at him beadily.

"I know what I'm capable of, Jay," Billy said, shrugging off the stare and sitting back on the couch. Jay shook his head and reached into the Doritos bag for a few more chips.

"Sure, you do," he said, waving him off as he put the chips to his mouth. Jay bit down – but the chips were no longer there. He grumbled and looked over at Billy, eating the same chips after his quick snatch with a smirk.

"I know what I'm capable of," he said, smiling. Jay couldn't help but smile, too. Billy and Jay had been friends for too long to be mad at each other over stupid arguments. Even back when this apartment was more of a home rather than a dump they had been together. Memories hit him and Billy's smile faded into a frown.

"I want to go see her," he said after the silence got too thick.

"Your call," Jay said knowingly. "I wouldn't."

"Why not?"

"They knew it was you back at Bolton," Jay said as though this wasn't his first time saying it. "If anybody recognizes you…"

"They won't." Jay turned to meet Billy's eyes. Hopefully, he was emitting some sort of assurance to Jay. Jay shrugged and turned back to the television.

"Like I said, your call. Not mine." As though that was the closest thing to a "go ahead" that Billy would get, he got up off the couch and rummaged the floor for a jacket. He found one that looked decent enough to go out in, red with two blue stripes around the middle, and put it on as he headed for the door.

"Don't get caught." Billy paused a moment as he reached for the doorknob. He turned his head back towards Jay with a smirk.

"They can't catch me," he said as he walked out the door. "I'm too fast."

**_New Orleans, LA  
Micah and Monica_**

Smoke rose from the building like a dormant volcano. Men and women in yellow fire suits patrolled the area around the site like detectives looking for clues. Monica stood with an arm around Micah, a firm hand on his shoulder as she looked expectantly out at the debris. They had called 9-1-1 an hour ago and the help showed up immediately. The boy who had taken Monica hostage was taken away. The fire was put out. The building was searched and there was no sign of Niki Sanders.

Micah had stayed silent the entire time, not crying, not whimpering, not moving at all. She envied him for that. Still, it had been more than half-an-hour of searching and they hadn't heard anything from anyone. They had to find her. They just _had_ to.

One of the men in yellow fire suits was talking to a colleague across the way. He pointed over at Micah and her a moment and the colleague shook his head. He patted the colleague on the shoulder and started to walk their way. She tensed up, her fingernails digging into Micah's shoulder.

"Monica?"

She looked down and Micah was looking up at her. He eyed his shoulder.

"Oh!" She relinquished her grip.

"It's alright, Monica," Micah said, turning to gaze at the man coming toward them. "They're going to find her. She isn't… They're going to find her."

"I don't know, Micah, that building went up right after I got out. I…"

"They are! I know they are! She isn't dead! My mom isn't dead!" For the first time since the police and firemen arrived, tears began to well up in Micah's eyes. He turned toward the ground, leaning heavily on Monica's midsection. She placed her hands on his shoulders and looked up at the fireman who came to talk to them.

"Sir?" she said, holding back a lump in her throat.

"Well, we searched the entire area of the explosion," the guy said.

"And? Did you find my aunt or not?" The man sighed heavily, jockeying his weight from foot to foot.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he finally said. "We did not find anyone in that building."

Tears began to fall along her cheek, looking down at Micah who would not look up. She held him closer, trying to think of anything to say. The man walked away, leaving the two to stand in silence and mourn their loss.

_**Courier General Hospital  
**__**Peter Petrelli and Matt Parkman**_

"Any leads yet?" Peter asked, arms folded in front of him.

Matt shook his head. "None yet." They stood in the hallway outside of Nathan's hospital room, discussion the situation. "We've accounted for all the press that were there, but if any random employee from the TV station decided to pull a trigger, it may turn out to be a whole lot harder than we thought."

Peter bit his lip, starting to pace back and forth over the dilemma going on in his mind. "Did you see anyone?"

"I swear I saw someone leaving, but everyone was going haywire. I didn't get a good enough look at whoever it was," Matt replied, looking angry with himself.

"It's alright, Matt." Peter patted him on the arm. "We're going to find out who did this. We just need to look for all our options." He scratched his head, thinking hard. "Are we sure nobody caught whoever it was on camera?"

"Asked just about everybody, but I can check again."

"Do it." Peter gave him a piercing stare. Matt nodded and started to walk down the hallway. Peter turned and went back inside the hospital room, sitting back down in the chair across from the bed.

"We're going to find them, Nathan," he said quietly, "don't you worry. We'll find out who did this to you." He took a deep breath and, slowly, let his head sag.

"Always knew you would," came a muffled voice from the other side of the room. Peter jerked his head up, staring. Coughing yet managing to smile, Nathan turned his head in bed. Peter stood up instinctively, the odd glow in the room almost making him disbelieve that this was real.

"Nathan… You – you're okay!"

"Of course, I'm okay, Peter," Nathan said with an air of confidence. "Did you really think a few bullets could keep me down?"

"Sure looked like it," Peter said with a smile. He reached out and put a hand on Nathan's shoulder. Suddenly…

A quick-beeping. The machine by Nathan's bed began to ring loudly.

"There isn't much time." Peter looked down and Nathan looked unrecognizable. His skin had gone pale, a mere vision of it's former self. His eyes were wide and his arms were shaking. "Go, before they make a terrible mistake. Before they let them out."

"…Nathan?" The beeping got quicker.

"Go _now_!" Nathan's head jerked toward Peter who backed away. His eyes were dilated and unblinking. The lights in the room got brighter. The beeping began to ring in his ears. "Before it's too late! Before _she_ makes it too late!"

He couldn't see, he couldn't move.

"Before it's too late! _Find who did this to me!_" Brighter and brighter and brighter until…

Peter sucked in a gasping breath. His eyes opened wide and he stared wildly around him. Regaining his breath, he calmed down slowly. It was all a dream.

…Or was it?

The beeping continued, but Nathan stayed still and silent. Peter rushed up to Nathan's bedside to check the monitor. His heart rate was increasing rapidly.

"Nurse!" he shouted. "Hey, there's something wrong! Somebody get in here!"

Immediately the room was stormed by a doctor and two nurses. They spoke in phrases that Peter only learned in passing. They crossed back and forth around the bed, speaking hurriedly. He stepped back, his breathing shallow, hoping to God that Nathan was going to be okay.

-x-

Meanwhile, in the room beside it, a woman in her early fifties sat dormant in the hospital bed given to her. Sandy brown hair askew in many loose strands, she doesn't hear the commotion in the other room. Tubes extend down her nose and into her mouth, helping her breathe while a series of casts on her right arm and both legs keep her in place. She lies motionless, unaware of the Petrelli crisis in the other room…

…or of the man who just entered into hers.

He closed the door behind him without a sound. Like anyone could hear from the racket next door, but he took it as just a lucky break. Walking slowly toward the side of the bed, he cautions away from the light that surrounds it.

"I told you I'd be back," he said and smiled. He reached out an arm instinctively then paused. Should he? Could he risk it? If he did it quick, it wouldn't be a problem. Plus, the problem in the other room would keep them distracted. Yeah, he just had to be quick about it.

Then again, speed wasn't his problem.

"Hey, Mom," Billy said, stepping forward into the light and placing a hand on her arm. She felt cold. "Stupid nurses." He tucked the covers of her bed in carefully. Hopefully that helped.

"I got some more money today, Mom. I've almost got enough. "She didn't respond but he knew she'd have been happy. "I've been doing all I can to get enough. Nothing you wouldn't approve of." He added the last part quickly, but she stayed stationary. He frowned.

"Don't worry, Mom," he said, giving her arm a squeeze. "I'm going to make enough. I'm going to get you better again." Behind him, the door shimmied. "Then I'm going to show you what I can do."

The doorknob turned.

"What makes me special."

The door began to open. Billy turned quickly, gave a final squeeze to his mother's arm, and zipped out of sight.

The nurse came in and stopped a moment. Did she just see a ghost? No, it must have been her eyes playing tricks on her. She continued to the bedside with the tray in her hand and a new IV bag on top of it.

"I swear I just saw a phantom, Martha. Can you believe that?" She patted the woman in bed on the shoulder before changing the IV. "Maybe it was an angel. An angel lookin' out for ya."

Behind her, in the corner beside the door, Billy crept toward the open way out.

**Death is inevitable.**

He gave a final gaze to his mother, slipping out of the open door without a sound and zipping quickly down the hospital hallway toward the elevator.

-x-

**But do we have time enough left to help those we love?**

Peter Petrelli stood unblinking at the many people trying to help his brother stay alive. Please, keep him alive. No matter how much he thought it, though, he just couldn't hold himself to believe it.

"Sir." Peter turned toward the nurse who approached him. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to wait outside."

"I'm not leaving him," Peter said, standing his ground.

"I'm sorry sir, but the doctor needs to work. You'll just be outside, alright?" Peter wanted to stay. He wanted to help him. But he knew too well what he needed to do.

-x-

**Is there some purpose they have left to serve before they are gone?**

Along an open road in Louisiana, Monica Dawson drove in silence, afraid to look toward the passenger seat next to her for fear of continuing to cry. She knew that Micah had continued to stare when they left the explosion site. She knew he had lost his mother in that horrific explosion.

She did not know, however, where he would go from here. He had been silent ever since the declaration of Niki's death. Hopefully, while lost in thought for the rest of the drive, she would find a way to express it was going to be okay. But what is okay when you lose both your parents?

-x-

**Is there some way we can save our family from the inevitable? …No.**

Peter stared through the grid-patterned glass as the doctors did their work. He had work of his own to do over the coming days. But he still needed Nathan to pull it all together.

"Come on, Nathan," Peter whispered to himself. "Pull through. I know you can pull through…"

Sadly, his hopes didn't put him any more at ease. And the night wearing on would bring him less and less comfort as the hours went by.

-x-

**But with every death, a new life is born. And with every new life comes a ****far**** different purpose.**

The lights above him flickered sickeningly before staying on. It made a strange image on the floor, him in his large-brimmed black hat and knee-length black trench coat. Damn rickety police stations. Couldn't trust them for anything, not even enough light to see your hand in front of your face for more than 10 seconds.

"Got it," an officer said, entering the room with what looked like a small cassette tape. "Just came in an hour ago. You're lucky you got here when you did."

"Yeah," the large man in the trench coat replied. "Lucky." Around the group in the room were three medium-sized televisions hooked up to a number of input devices. The trench-coated man folded his arms in front of him as the tape was handed off to the woman beside the mass of equipment against the wall.

"What was his name again?" asked a second male officer, nudging the first that just entered. The first opened his mouth to answer.

"Burbank," the trench-coated man said. The lights in the room flickered once more. "Just call me Burbank."

"Well, Mr. Burbank," the female in front of the screens replied, "you're about to get what you asked for." She pressed play on the VCR and the screen in front of her flipped to life.

It showed a small convenience store with a group of people in line. One by one, the people paid for their things and went. Meanwhile, in the bottom-right corner of the screen, someone walked into the store with their head held down, moving toward the back of the store.

"We thinkin' that's our perpetrator?" The first officer picked at his teeth with his pinky nail, leaning towards the screen. Burbank sneered silently behind him.

"Yep," the female replied. "He's the only one unaccounted for before the shooting starts."

The video had no audio, but several people in the shot ducked down and a masked figure walked toward the front counter. Burbank's eyes widened as he continued to watch, the gun in the criminal's hand moving to point toward the cashier's head.

Then, he turns. The camera gets a good shot of his masked face, but not enough to tell who it is. The cashier begins to grab a shotgun from behind the counter. The criminal turns back. He fires… and misses. Magazines fall on the cashier's head and –

"Hang on," Burbank says. "Rewind and pause it after that shot was taken." He moves the first officer out of the way to take a good look at the screen.

"We don't understand it either," the second officer says, noticing the same wonder in Burbank's posture. "One minute the guy is there, the next he's not. He's like a ghost. Which doesn't make any sense because the money was still stolen."

Staring straight into the screen, though, Burbank smiles.

"Who are you with again, Mr. Burbank?" the first officer asks. If only these people knew.

"I'm self-employed. A private investigator."

"You're a bounty hunter, aren't you?" Bounty hunter was a mere shadow of what he was, but he decided not to correct him.

"How many people have seen this tape?" Burbank asked, ignoring the previous question.

"Just us three," the second officer replied, "maybe one more. Why?" The officer gave him an eerie eye. He was catching on.

"Good," Burbank said, striding to the center of the room. "Very good." The lights in the room began to flicker again.

"Darn lights," the first officer said, staring up at them. Burbank smiled again.

"Here," he said, opening his palms at his sides, "let me help you with that…"

The lights flickered out quickly. The sound of a surge going through the room, intermittent with flashes of the ceiling fluorescents ensued. All at once, the noise stopped and the lights came back up.

All three officers were sprawled on the floor. Burbank is the only one still standing in the same spot. He strode prominently over to the video system once again. Taking one final look at the blur where the masked criminal once was, he made his hand into the shape of an imaginary gun and pointed it at the screen.

"Got you, kid," he said. And with a "pull of the trigger," the room goes black.

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	2. Puzzle Pieces

_**Tokyo, Japan  
Hiro Nakamura**_

He squinted at the bomb in front of him, his eyes darting back and forth from the red wire to the blue wire. Red or blue, red or blue? The timer ticked down. Forty-five seconds left. Red or blue, red or blue? He could do this. He'd saved the world before and he could do it again. The wires were taunting him. Thirty seconds left. _Red or blue?_

"Hiro! What are you doing?!"

Hiro turned quickly in the black swivel chair, staring out of his cubicle. His boss, Mr. Korumu, looked livid. Inching his chair over to the left, he tried to cover up the blatant misuse of company time on his computer screen. From the look on Korumu's face, it did not work.

"Saving the world?" Hiro said in his native language, smiling feebly.

"Your time would be better used saving your job," Korumu said with a threatening finger pointed. "Your sister may hold power in this company, but that does not mean that you cannot get fired!" If only Hiro still had Kensei's blade with him. Then he could show Korumu who had power. Still, he had to concede.

"Yes, sir." Hiro replied, a slight tone of resentment in his voice.

"To think what your father sacrificed to raise you…and what you have to show for it," Korumu said, his voice much quieter. Hiro glared at him, anger rising in his chest. How dare he talk to him about his father… "Now, back to work!" Korumu strode away and Hiro turned back toward the computer screen, staring at the game in front of him. Five seconds left to choose a wire. The timer ticked down. Last chance.

He picked red. For a moment nothing happened.

Then, large red letters appeared on the screen, flashing: BOOOM! A box appeared in front of it, reading GAME OVER.

"Yes, I know," he sighed. "I know it's all over now." It was true. Kensei was gone. Sylar was defeated. Hiro had served his purpose and now he was stuck behind a desk again. It was three days after he buried Kensei. No more battle swords or princesses. Yet no matter how dangerous his work may have been, he still wished he had more to accomplish. It was good to have time to rest, but something inside of him, the hero he supposed, would not let him go.

"Still trying to save the world, Hiro?" He turned and smiled, seeing Ando stand at the entrance to his cubicle, an arm hanging over the flimsy wall.

"No, Ando," Hiro said, moving the cursor on the screen to exit out of the game. "Just going through memories."

"You know, you could always cheat. You can go back in time two minutes and pick the other wire," Ando said, coming in and sitting leisurely on Hiro's desk. Hiro pushed him back off and grabbed the papers Ando sat on to unwrinkle them.

"That would be dishonest," Hiro said. Ando rolled his eyes. "Plus, it's only a game. It isn't real. You know what happens when I use my power for personal gain." Ando shifted uneasily, remembering only too well.

"Well at least you're back now. And personal gain isn't a bad idea every once in a while." Hiro sighed. Personal gain was something that never seemed to last with him. He didn't mind it much, but Ando was right. A little enjoyment never hurt anybody… most of the time. "By the way, did you get the new memo?"

"What memo?"

"Management wants us to clear out our old e-mails. Running out of space on the server or something," Ando said in a monotone voice as though directly quoting the message. "You'd think they wouldn't send an e-mail to say delete your e-mails."

"Yeah." Hiro logged up the e-mail on his computer. As he began to go through the unimportant e-mails, starting with the most recent, he couldn't help but frown. Missing memos, deleting e-mails – is this where he was destined to be? Where was the excitement, the action? Where had the adventure gone?

"Hiro?" Hiro turned to Ando. "It's okay, Hiro. Your time will come again." The thoughts must have formed on his face. Hiro shrugged.

"When?"

"You're the bender of space and time," Ando replied. "You tell me." Hiro shook his head, turning back to the computer screen. Gazing down the list, a name caught his eye half-way down. He squinted, but it read the same as the first time.

"Ando?"

"What?"

"I've only been back three days, right?"

"Yeah… Before that you were fighting Kensei. Why do you ask?"

"I have an e-mail… from myself. And it's dated two weeks ago."

**The largest questions in life never have answers ****given**** to us. What is the meaning of life? Why are we here? Do we have the potential to be… extraordinary? We may never truly know.**

"Ando, did you – ?"

"No, not me," Ando replied quickly, leaning toward the computer screen with interest. The subject line read URGENT! Read as soon as possible! Hiro and Ando glanced at each other, confused.

**But the questions of great importance always leave clues, pieces of the puzzle, scattered for us to find.**

"Open it, Hiro!" Ando tried to keep his voice down but excitement was building inside of him. Hiro felt it, too. Destiny was calling once again.

**With these pieces, we hold the keys to our existence…**

Hiro took a quick look out of the cubicle before deciding it was clear to look. He took a deep breath, opened the e-mail and started to read. Ando's eyes took one glance at the page and frowned.

"It's… gibberish," he exclaimed. The e-mail contained a vast variety of letters and numbers in a random order. It nearly filled the e-mail from top to bottom, going on for half a page. The only part of the e-mail that wasn't text was at the very bottom. A picture of Kaito Nakamura, his father, graced the area like an unlabelled signature. Ando shook his head in disbelief. "What are you supposed to get from this?"

Hiro gazed at the e-mail. There had to be something here.

**…And unlocking them may find us one step closer to the truth.**

His eyes widened as he realized what he was looking at. Quickly he grabbed a piece of paper from the stack of printed e-mails on his desk. As the first page is snatched away, the second of the stack shows large black lettering.

**Chapter Two  
Puzzle Pieces**

"It isn't gibberish, Ando," Hiro said, grabbing a pen from his desk. He was convinced. "It's a coded message."

_**Hartsdale, New York  
Primatech Research  
Mohinder, Maya, and Molly**_

He found himself less and less privy to the white walled and many-doored hallways of the Company's New York facility. It felt wrong, fake. He couldn't piece it together, but there always seemed to be something under the surface, something being hidden. He didn't trust it. Still, Mohinder followed the security guard toward lab D5 and the four entered.

It was an empty room with a long metallic table and seven similar chairs surrounding it. Along the wall at head height, cabinets filled with equipment were filled - test tubes, beakers, safety materials, etc. Counter space lined the walls of the room but all of it was bare save for a sink near the glass window by the door. No experiments went on in this room, at least not recently. It was too clean. No, now it was an impromptu meeting room.

The guard invited them to sit in a grunt of a voice. Mohinder didn't like him much but he, Molly and Maya sat down and waited. The guard stood, stoic, and they sat in silence. It was another ten minutes before the door to the room opened. A balding man in glasses that Mohinder recognized immediately entered the room. He looked flustered and frustrated, as always, but nonetheless in control. Bob cleared his throat as he placed two folders, stacked, on the table and began.

"Well, we are glad to have you safe after what must have been a terrible ordeal, Dr. Suresh," he said in his most apologetic tone. "We have people already on the look out for Sylar. They know what he is capable of and know what is at stake with him on the loose. He can't have left New York yet."

"How do you know?" Mohinder asked. Bob sighed.

"We don't. At the very least we know that you are safe in this building."

"How can you be sure?"

"You do realize, Dr. Suresh, that the more you question me, the more time we waste." Bob had a hint of anger in his voice. "If you would like to go over the safety precautions of this building in greater detail, I would be glad to give them to you, but now we have business to take care of."

"Business?" It was the first time Maya had spoken up. "What business?"

"I'm glad that you asked, Ms. Herrera," Bob said, grabbing the first folder from his stack and opening it. "And, yes, we know who you are, Ms. Herrera. Don't worry, we are here to help." Maya closed her mouth, her unasked question retreating within her. Bob gave her a piercing stare before passing the folder in his hands to Mohinder. He opened it quickly, looking over the documents inside. "Because of the recent breakout of Sylar as well as a few other unforeseen events we have decided that it is time for a drastic measure. And for that, Dr. Suresh, we need you."

"This… these are my documents," Mohinder said, turning the pages in awe. "This is my research, my _personal_ research, on the human brain and it's capabilities. How did you – ?"

"Through your compiled research," Bob continued, ignoring the question, "we have found an answer to a project years in the making. The problem is we need your help to complete it."

"Another virus, I suspect."

"It would be advisable on your part, Dr. Suresh, if you would give me a chance to explain."

"Why?" Mohinder stood. The guard in the corner took a step forward. He didn't care. He was going to be heard whether they liked it or not. "Thus far, the only so-called projects this company has created were to blow up New York and spread a deadly virus! Where in these plans do you consider the people you're trying to save instead of those you're trying to exterminate?"

"Dr. Suresh!" Mohinder paused. He had never heard Bob lose his temper before. Bob's whole face was red, eyes narrowed and bald spot starting to sweat. He took a moment to take a few breaths, removing his glasses and massaging the bridge of his nose. He tried to speak calmly. "I understand that you may not agree with our methods, but we are doing this to protect people. People like you." He placed his glasses back on, his anger waning. "But if you choose not to help us, that's fine. You're not the only geneticist in New York. And, as you can see, we already have a copy of your work." He pointed to the open folder on the table. "_You_ are not required here."

"Fine," Mohinder said spitefully. "We're leaving. Come on, Molly. Maya." Molly began to get up from her chair.

"I'm afraid, that's out of the question." Mohinder froze. No. He couldn't have said what he just said. "Molly must stay here. You may not be needed here, but Molly is. She stays."

"You can't keep her here!"

"I'm afraid I can. You may be who she stays with, but you are not her legal guardian." No, this couldn't be happening. They couldn't take her away from him. Not now, not after what she'd been through.

"Maya, let's go. We can take Molly out ourselves, they can't keep her if we –"

"I'm sorry, Dr. Suresh," Maya said, head turned away. "I must stay as well. I need to know how to control… my ability. …I'm so sorry."

He was alone. Molly, eyes full of sadness, looked up at him in despair, knowing there was nothing she could do to help. Maya kept her eyes averted, knowing she was abandoning the one person she'd met who actually tried to help her. Mohinder just stared, helpless.

"Then, I guess I'm not leaving." His gaze stayed on Molly, who smiled weakly. "I'm not leaving her here."

"Good. I'm glad you've seen it our way, Dr. Suresh."

_**Detroit, MI  
The Detroit Chronicle Offices  
Sam Jacobson**_

They were all laughing at him. All of them. He slammed the door to the office behind him and started to walk towards his desk. He'd had it. These people didn't believe a word he said, they never did, but it was all the truth. Every single word of it.  
If only he had proof.

"Hey Sam!" Christie called, blonde curls bouncing behind her, as she walked over from her desk in a long dark-brown skirt and white blouse. She copied his steps passed a series of desks. Sam hardly noticed her but nodded in acknowledgement. "So… how'd it go?"

"You didn't hear them laughing?" Sam said, grabbing angrily at the suspenders under his jacket and jockeying them into a comfortable position. "Heck, they're still laughing! I swear I'm cursed or something."

"You're not cursed, Sam. Just…" She stopped. Not only because they arrived at his desk, but because she didn't know how to put it. He did.

"Unlucky. Yeah, I know." He plopped down into a brown, wooden swivel chair and stared sulkily at the computer on his desk.

"You've got to admit, though, your stories are a bit… fantastic to believe." Sam looked up sternly. "A guy who could, uh, melt metal? A mechanic who could 'hear' what was wrong with your truck?"

"I'm not making it up," Sam replied.

"I know you're not," she said, not quite meeting his eyes, "but it's not the stories they're looking for. They're looking for something real."

"I don't look for them. They find me. How was I supposed to know the minute I try to get a second look at these people, they vanish from the face of the Earth? In fact, when I was headed to Houston to report on that conference, I swear I saw the most amazing thing."

"What?"

"I was heading through Louisiana and I passed by this building four streets down that was on fire. No police, no fire department. Just a kid standing outside. Then this other kid ran past my truck and actually ran in the building!"

"You saw someone commit suicide?" Christie said, eyes wide.

"No! …Well, I don't think I did. It didn't look like suicide. He looked… heroic." He seemed surprised, even to himself, that he used such a word.

"Well?" Christie asked, waiting intently. "What happened to him?"

"I don't know," Sam sulked. "The building went up after he went in. Maybe it was just a death wish." Christie patted him on the shoulder. "Then, just as I get to Houston, I get re-assigned to Odessa and _that_ was a catastrophe."

"It's okay, Sam," she said, taking a seat on his desk. "You'll get your story that saves your butt. You always do."

"Yeah, I know." Sam tried to wash off the pity he knew Christie was piling on, but she was right. He needed a good story and he needed one now.

"Jeez!" Christie yelled, jumping up from the desk like something shocked her. The phone rang again on Sam's desk and he picked it up.

"Sam Jacobson, Detroit Chronicle," he said monotonously. "Uh huh. Yeah, I was there. Saw the whole thing. Uh huh. Well, as soon as I heard it, I turned around. I've been around some pretty crazy situations lately and I –" Sam froze. He was trying to remember something, then it hit him.

"Yeah, yeah, I think I snapped a photo." Sam smiled. "Of course. It'll be developed in a few hours. Great! I'll see you when you get here!" He hung up the phone and grinned to himself.

"Who was that?"

"I think my next story just found me."

_**Odessa, TX  
Courier General Hospital  
Peter Petrelli**_

"How's he looking, Doc?" Peter asked, arms folded in front of him. The doctor scratched his head with his free hand, holding a clipboard in his other.

"Well, Mr. Petrelli, over the course of the previous night, your brother suffered massive heart failure. We were able to stabilize him, but not before his heart rate dropped dramatically and his blood pressure plummeted. We're not quite sure what caused it, but the damage has been done. After the past few days, he's lucky to be alive."

"Is he going to be alright?" Peter held his breath.

"It's hard to say," the doctor replied. Peter sighed. Nathan couldn't die. Not now. A nurse walked down the hallway, meeting up with the doctor and handing him a few papers. He nodded, looking them over, and raised an eyebrow questionably. "That's interesting…"

"What is?" Peter asked.

"Your brother has been approved for a hospital transfer to Hartsdale, New York. Effective immediately."

"Hartsdale?" Peter replied. "Why does that sound familiar?" He couldn't quite place the resemblance. The doctor began walking towards Nathan's hospital door. "Hey! Hey Doc! Who requested the transfer?"

"Angela Petrelli."

_**Linden, NJ  
Highway 514  
Sylar**_

He was weak. And he despised feeling weak. His power had returned, yes, but not at full strength. Not at one-hundred-percent. And that was unacceptable.

Thumb outstretched, he walked backwards along the grassy highway strip. Some unlucky sap was bound to pull over soon. They always did. And, wouldn't you know it, a dark-haired man in a dark blue station wagon pulled over to the side of the road, all smiles. Not his first choice in a car, but it would do.

"Need a ride, sir?" the man asked. Sylar smiled back.

"Why, yes, I do." He got into the car, careful not to slam it behind him. Wouldn't want this guy to think him inconsiderate.

"Where you headed?" That was the question, wasn't it? He couldn't stay in the area. No, it wasn't safe. The Company was looking for him and he didn't have the luxury of being completely in control. Where could he hurt them most where he could have the advantage? Then, it came to him.

"Odessa," Sylar said. "Odessa, TX. I have some family that I need to see."

"Well, I'm not going that far, but I can take you to the Jersey turnpike."

"That'll be fine." Sylar smiled again. The car took off. No, the driver wouldn't be going far at all. Besides, the Jersey turnpike seemed as good a place as any to dump a body.

_**Hartsdale, NY  
Primatech Research  
Mohinder and Bob**_

"Where are we going?" Mohinder asked as he followed Bob down the hallway, escorted by two security guards. Bob sighed, ignoring yet another question. This didn't help Mohinder's trust in the Company, but he had no choice. He had to work for them… for Molly's sake. At the end of the hallway, they arrived at an elevator and went inside it. The two security guards didn't follow them. As the doors closed behind them, Bob pulled out a small silver key, inserted it into a slot beneath the elevator buttons, and turned.

Immediately, the whole elevator gave a small jolt and the yellow fluorescent lights in the ceiling turned light blue. "What was that?" Mohinder asked.

"One of those safety precautions you were asking about," Bob replied. "Believe me, we have many." The elevator moved down. Mohinder kept his silence, unsure of what his work may include. When the elevator reached the bottom (or what he assumed must be the bottom from how long it took), the doors opened and…

"Hey, Daddy," Elle said with a smile. Still with an arm in a sling, Elle switched her gaze over to Mohinder. "What's _he_ doing here?"

"Working," Bob said, stepping out of the elevator with Mohinder quickly following in suit. The level looked like an underground version of the upstairs facility with no windows showing what lay behind the oak doors. Faint groaning could be heard near the end of the hallway.

"I was hoping I could talk with you," Elle said, keeping up. "You know, about – "

"No." He didn't even turn to say it.

"But Daddy…"

"I said no, Elle. You are not at full potential and you've already failed me one too many times." There was an open door coming up. Mohinder peeked inside as they passed. It was another hallway, darker, and the groaning seemed to be coming from it. It didn't look like a medical area; more like a row of holding cells. Before he could get a better look, though, a security guard exited the door and closed it behind him.

"They said the sling could come off in a few days and I still could – "

Bob halted, surprising Mohinder so much he almost ran into him. Bob turned toward his daughter, sternly staring her down. "I will not have you out there against one of the most dangerous men this Company has had to face. Sylar is being dealt with, Elle. We have enough agents in the field – "

"And I'm one of the best ones you have." Elle stood her ground. Mohinder watched on as the two stared each other down. "Please. Just one more chance. That's all I'm asking for." He could see Bob thinking firmly about the situation.

"Meet me in my office in an hour," Bob said finally, turning around and continuing his walk down the hallway. It looked as though Elle wanted to say 'thank you' but she turned back around and headed for the elevator. Mohinder followed Bob all the way to the door at the end of the hallway. It was steel-plated with a keypad beside it. Bob punched in some numbers and the sound of huge locks within the doorframe emitted as the door trembled. "Kids these days," Bob said as the door swung open and he stepped inside the blue-lit room.

Immediately, questions began to fill Mohinder's mind as he stepped inside and he couldn't help uttering them. "What is this place? What is that read-out?" His head swung back-and-forth before settling on the figure on the large silver table. "Is that… _Maury Parkman_?" Bob sighed heavily.

_**Odessa, TX  
Courier General Hospital  
Peter Petrelli**_

"Really? Wow. You can do that?" Peter asked through the cell phone at his ear. "Matt, that's great! It's a little, you know, dishonest but we'll deal with that later."

"Dishonest?" Matt's voice hummed through the phone. "Peter, I'm still doing my job. I've just… been assigned to a very specific case."

"You made your boss put you on solving my brother's shooting with your mind." Peter spoke in a less than audible tone. "You've got to admit that –"

"I'm helping you out, right?"

Peter shrugged. "Yeah."

"Then, what's the problem?" Peter hesitated. He didn't want to tell Matt that what he was doing to other people was wrong. It was helping, even if he had to change some people's minds to do it.

"Nothing," Peter replied. He'd deal with it later. "So, have you gotten anywhere with who shot my brother?"

"Actually, I have." There was a shuffle on the other end of the line. "Found a guy who was at the press conference. He's in Detroit. Can you be there by tomorrow?"

He was immediately going to say "yes" before he thought of his brother. His mother was sending him back to New York for whatever reason and he wanted to fight it. Something in him stopped him, though. Nathan was going to be fine. No matter what strange dreams he'd had before, Nathan was going to be okay.

"Sure. I'll be there."

"Great! I'll see you in Detroit." Peter hung up the phone and turned around.

"Sorry about that," Peter said to the man standing beside him.

"Nah, it's fine," the man said with a smile. "Gotta take care of business, right?"

"Right. Now, what were you asking me before?"

"Have you seen this kid before?" He held up a picture and Peter gazed at it. It looked like a high school photo, but the kid seemed older – at least in his twenties – with blonde hair and green eyes and the photo seemed more candid. "Been hassling some of the patients lately and we were hoping the police could have a look at him. So, seen him?" He looked vaguely familiar, but not enough that it meant anything.

"Sorry, can't say I have," Peter replied. The man looked him dead in the eyes before putting the picture away in a pocket. He didn't exactly look like a doctor though his white coat extended all the way to the floor, like a trench coat. "Who are you again?"

"Burbank," the man said, grinning and nodding his head. "Head of hospital security. Can't be too careful, you know."

"Yeah." This Burbank character was still staring at him eerily.

"I get the feeling this won't be the last time we meet, Mr. Petrelli."

"Well, my brother's getting transferred so it probably is."

"Sure, Mr. Petrelli," Burbank said, straightening his coat. "Sure. Until we meet again."

"Goodbye, Mr. Burbank." Peter turned and started down the hallway for the elevator. He peeked over his shoulder. Mr. Burbank was staring through the window of a hospital room. Not his brother's, but the one beside it. And he was smiling.

_**Hartsdale, NY  
Primatech Research  
Elle Bishop**_

She walked in to find Bob's office empty. He wasn't here yet. Patient as she always was, she went behind his desk immediately and shoved his mouse from side-to-side. The screen came to life. Her father's e-mails were presented to her and what good was it to sit there without reading a few.

The first was an interdepartmental memo about Suresh's involvement in a special project down in the lower levels. Molly's re-involvement with the Company and Little Miss Black Tears's training were included. Boring.

Next one was a reminder of Kaito Nakamura's death. Honor and duty and responsibility were said so many times she wanted to gag. Depressing. Wasn't there anything interesting to read?

Then, she read the next one's subject title: a whole bunch of random letters and numbers jumbled together ending with a name – Elle. She clicked on it immediately. A dialog box popped up asking for a password. There were password-coded e-mails? Annoying.

"What are you doing?" She looked up quickly, minimizing the e-mail program. Bob gave her a piercing stare.

"Waiting for you, Daddy," Elle said, smiling. She got out of his seat and he took it. Sitting opposite him, she leaned forward slightly. "So?"

"So, I've given it a lot of thought." He hesitated. Just thought? Elle kept a cool face. "And I agree that you have proven yourself to be well over-par more times than not." Elle's smile widened. "But this is a warning. If anything goes wrong, I will have no choice but to take you off active field duty. I can't have you disappoint me again, understand?"

"Clear as crystal." She got what she wanted. Now, it was time to give Sylar what he deserved. "So, where do I start?"

"You know policy, Elle," Bob said. "Everyone gets a partner."

"Well? Who is it?" Bob reached over to his phone, pressed a button and spoke into the speaker.

"Send them in." The door opened…

…and in walked Molly Walker. Elle raised her eyebrows. "You can't be serious," she said, grinning over at Molly. The girl stood by Bob's desk, head down. "Aw… I don't think you're quite ready for field assignments yet, Molly."

"No," said a voice by the door. Elle turned. "She isn't." Noah Bennett stared her down. Elle's face fell into anger.

"What's he doing here?"

"You know the policy, Elle," Noah said, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose gently. "One of us, one of them."

"Daddy, you can't honestly believe that he's – "

"He's ready for assignments, Elle," Bob declared. "And he's completely qualified for the job. Besides, he's the one who caught Sylar the last time."

"He's the one who held me captive!" Elle spat, not taking her eyes off Bennett.

"You helped to steal my daughter. I think it was a fair trade."

"Well, it looks like the two of you will be fast friends," Bob sighed, eyeing them beadily. Elle crossed her arms indignantly. This was so not what she was expecting. "You'll start immediately. This is what you wanted, isn't it, Elle?"

"Yes, Daddy." It didn't matter. She got what she wanted… mostly. "Where do we start?" Bob smiled and turned to Molly. The girl lifted her head slightly.

"Well, Molly," Bob said. "Where do we find Sylar?" Molly nodded and closed her eyes. Elle glanced at her a moment. Whatever she thought of the girl, she was at least useful.

_**Tokyo, Japan  
Yamagato Industries  
Hiro and Ando**_

Ando sat blissfully unaware, eyes closed and mouth hanging open, outside of Hiro's cubicle. Just resting his eyes, of course, even if he was supposed to be keeping a lookout for Korumu in case he decided to check-in with Hiro. Currently, though, he was having a very happy dream about Niki Sanders. Oh, if only he knew where she was now, he'd definitely meet up with her again in a heartbeat. Oh, Niki…

"Um… Ando?" He woke up instantly to find Wendy Riu standing in front of him with a large folder filled with papers clutched in her hands.

"Wendy. Um, hello!" He tried to look as though he had been doing something beforehand, but nothing came to mind.

"Is Hiro in there?" Wendy asked, trying to peek into the cubicle with eager eyes. Ando covered it up as best he could.

"Yes, but… he's busy," Ando replied. "Are those for him?"

"Yes. Korumu wants these into the system before the end of the day." Wendy still tried to look in, but Ando followed her leaning in a mirror-like pose. Quickly, he took the folder from Wendy.

"I'll make sure he gets them. Bye Wendy."

"Okay," she said, starting to walk away. "Tell Hiro I said hello."

"Got it. Bye Wendy."

"Okay. Bye." As soon as she was out of earshot, Ando went into the cubicle, tossing the folder somewhere on the desk carelessly.

"What are those?" Hiro asked, turning to look at the folder.

"Nothing important," Ando said, taking a seat on the desk and leaning toward the computer screen. "Have you deciphered it yet, Hiro?" Hiro pushed him off the desk for the fourth time today, straightening the papers he sat on. Ando rolled his eyes.

"Not entirely," Hiro said, bringing up the e-mail on one side of the screen and his deciphering on the other. "The only reason I recognized it is because it's an old cipher my father taught me when I was fifteen. He told me that great men often have great secrets and to keep those secrets they must be held with great caution."

"Your father was a great man." Hiro smiled.

"Here is what I have figured out so far," Hiro said. Double-clicking the deciphered version of the e-mail, the text got bigger. He read it, keeping his voice down. "_Dear Hiro, it is urgent that this message reach you soon. I do not know when next you will arrive as, no doubt, you are still in the past. I cannot explain how important this information is to your future. You must warn the world before – _" Hiro paused, sighing. "And from there the phrases start to get disjointed. There's '_three months_' and '_fighting time_' or '_fought time_' and something about '_control_'. There's also something that I think is saying '_ice man_'."

"So you sent this to yourself two weeks ago?" Ando asked, trying to make sense of it.

"It looks like it. But I don't know why I rushed the ending. Did anything happen two weeks ago?"

Ando shrugged. "Korumu caught me playing Super Speedster at my desk. I found the notes you sent me from Kensei's time. Wendy's car got stolen, but she didn't seem too unhappy about it. Then again, she is the one who think Korumu can do no wrong. That's about it." Ando frowned. Hiro knew just as well as he did that the lack of answers was frustrating. "Is there anything else?"

"Just one phrase. '_Second coming_'," Hiro replied. He stared at the rest of the e-mail inquisitively. How could all this fit together? "_Ice man._"

**The world is not ready for all of it's secrets to be revealed.**

His eyes moved over the picture of his father at the bottom of the e-mail. He had to be missing something.

**But once in a long while, the pieces of the puzzle are laid before you.**

Looking closer, he saw something. A cluster of pixels on his father's jacket were out of place. The harder he looked at it, the more he noticed the cluster was in the shape of the Godsend symbol. His interest piqued, he ran the mouse over it. It was clickable. _Click_.

**And, with a keen intellect, the picture the puzzle makes can be far more important than the pieces themselves.**

A new window popped up immediately. It was a small photo captured by what had to be a digital camera. His eyes widened. It showed a dirty street corner slightly obscured by the lower torso and legs of a man, but that wasn't what surprised him most. The street corner, the man's legs, the trash on the roadside – everything was covered in ice. Ando looked up and gave the screen the same expression.

"What's this?" he asked, confused.

"...Ice man."

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	3. Caught

**_Detroit, MI  
Peter Petrelli and Matt Parkman_**

He arrived soon after Matt did. Matt had been waiting for him at the gate and they shook hands as they left the airport. The directions given to Matt were a bit shaky but they found their way to the Detroit Chronicle offices soon enough. As they entered the building, they looked around at the many people coming and going, trying to find the right one.

"Do you see him?" Peter asked.

"I met him over the phone," Matt said, "How am I supposed to know what he looks like?"

"Can't you read his thoughts or something?" Matt held back a quick comeback and started to scan the room. A hundred different thoughts began to fill his head that weren't his own. He gazed across the room, moving his focus from person to person before –

"There." He pointed at a man in a brown suit jacket with sandy-brown hair who was turned around. Peter led Matt over to the guy and tapped him on the shoulder. The guy turned quickly, a camera swinging freely from his neck.

"Are you – ?"

"Sam Jacobson," the man finished, extending a hand. His eyes were wide. "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess," Matt said, shaking Sam's hand firmly. "Matt. Matt Parkman."

"And you are?"

"Peter Petrelli." Peter shook his hand as well. Sam smiled.

"Well, Mr. Petrelli," Sam said, looking from one person to the other. "I think I have what you're looking for."

_**Outside Houston, TX  
****Billy Baker**_

"Come on, man! Hurry up!" The cashier worked as fast as he could to put the money from the register into a bag. Billy smiled. All the customers were on the floor. The cashier was paying out. No heroes in sight. Finally, something was going right.

"Alright," Billy said through the mask with an unseen smile, "Now, open the safe and dump it in, too." The scrawny man under the gun had no choice but to concede. He began to unlock the safe under the front counter.

"You should watch where you point that thing." Billy turned, gun-pointed, and his eyes widened. A man in a black trench coat with a long-brimmed black hat was standing before him. He looked old enough to be his father. "You might put an eye out with that thing."

"Get back, old man," Billy said, finger on the trigger. "I don't want to have to set an example." To his amazement, the man smiled.

"Old man, huh?" the man laughed. "Well, I'll let that one slide, but I know for a fact that you have never killed anyone in your life… and you aren't starting now." Who was this guy? It didn't matter. Time was ticking. He needed to get this done and quickly. Billy readied the gun.

"I don't know who you are," he said, "but I _will_ shoot you if you don't back off."

"Go ahead, kid," the man said. Not afraid, not hesitating. "Do it." Billy bit his lip, deciding quickly what to do next. If he didn't shoot, he'd lose the payment. If he did, he wouldn't be able to take it back. The man was right – he had never killed anyone intentionally before. Still, time ticked past and every second not used getting the money was a second wasted. He made his decision. His hand was ready. He pulled the trigger.

…Or, at least, he tried to. He couldn't move his finger. His hand was stiff! In fact, he couldn't feel his hand at all. What was going on?

"What happened, kid? Lose your nerve?" The man taunted him now and he imagined what he must look like to the cashier and customers – the robber afraid to shoot someone. "Or are the muscles in your hand a bit… frozen." Billy's eyes widened. Was he… Was this guy actually _doing_ this to him? The man in the black trench coat smiled wider, turning to the cashier. "You can stop loading that money up, son. This kid's not going anywhere."

**It is human nature to want to be free, to do whatever we like. But we are, after all, part of the Animal Kingdom.**

People all over the convenience store began to get up off the floor. The cashier had stopped cowering. They weren't afraid anymore. Billy had lost his control of the room.

"Is that sirens I hear?" the man said, looking over his shoulder out the pane-glass windows of the store. It was true. Sirens were coming toward the store and the cops were on their way. There was no way out.

**And, as animals, our freedom is constantly challenged by those around us. We are cornered… caged… caught.**

But Billy was not going down without a fight. His right hand may have been frozen, but his left was still working. Quickly, he reared back and went to punch the trench-coated man in the face. His fist swung… and stopped just as the man turned back around, less than an inch from his nose!

The man's smile turned into a frown. "That… was a mistake." The man kicked him in the gut, knocking him backward into a movie-weilding display and spreading DVDs on the floor. Customers cowered back to the floor. Billy held his gut, coughing. He had regained the use of his hands, but the gun had slid under a shelf. Trying to force the pain out of his mind, he reached blindly for the gun.

**What makes us as humans unique, though, is not how we react…**

He could almost reach it… but hands pulled him up from the ground by his jacket. He looked up into the eyes of the man in the trench coat, holding him up fiercely.

"Listen here, Mr. Baker, you may be able to run as fast as you can away from your problems, but that's not happening today. Today, you're getting what you deserve."

"How do you know who I am? What's going on?" Billy asked, bewildered. "Who are you?"

"Who am I? Heh. Well, that's easy." The man smiled sadistically. "My name's Burbank."

…**It is how we escape.**

"We got it from here, sir," came a voice behind Burbank. He turned his head slowly, not letting go of the man in his hands. Three police officers were behind him, guns ready but not pointed. Over Burbank's shoulder on the linoleum tiling of the floor, large black wording appeared.

**Chapter Three  
****Caught**

He looked slightly angry, but let go of the man. Billy dropped to the floor, unsure of what to say or think.

"Just doing my civic duty, officers," Burbank said as they swarmed Billy. "Can't let scum like this go around unwatched."

"Yeah, yeah," said another of the officers, cuffing Billy and pulling him to his feet. They pushed him toward the door.

"Until we meet again." The words were barely audible, but Billy heard them and they made a shiver go down his spine. Who was this Burbank person and why was he after him? If anything, he was glad that he was being carted away by the police, something he never thought he'd think before. It was better than whatever Burbank may have had in mind.

**_Costa Verde, CA  
_**_**Costa Verde High School  
****Claire Bennett**_

The green minivan pulled up to the school, stopping at it's front. Claire stepped out of the vehicle, trying to smile in the California sun, but she couldn't hold herself to do it. "It's okay, Claire," Sandra said from the driver's side. Claire turned to see her mother smiling. It was a little forced, but effective. Claire smiled as well. "He may not be with us, but we know he's okay. You're getting the normal life he wanted for you."

"He's not here to see it though," Claire said.

"He is always with you. And he loves you." It wasn't forced anymore. Her mother was actually smiling. "Now, get inside. Don't want to be late, heaven forbid."

"Don't flunk out either!"

"Lyle!" Sandra slapped him on the knee.

"I won't," Claire said. "Love you, Mom." Her mother gave her a wink as the passenger door closed. The car pulled away and Claire sighed. Back to school… _again_.

"Waiting for an invitation?"

Claire turned and smiled wider. "West." She walked over to him and hugged him.

"I'm glad you decided to stay."

"Me, too," Claire replied, letting go. "You're not going anywhere, right?"

"You'd have to push me away. _Really_ hard." He looked back over the towering campus of Costa Verde High and sighed. "Ready to face the robots?" She took his hand.

"Definitely."

They walked triumphantly up the path into the main courtyard. The usual cliques were in their desirable places. Cheerleaders on the far right taking the area with the most shade; goths on the complete opposite side hiding from the sun as best they could; nerds huddled together in the middle near the small fountain and…

"Hey West!" a voice called out. "Who's that you got with you? A girlfriend?" The group of guys near the lockers, sitting on top of a glistening red picnic table, laughed to themselves.

"Nah," another voice said. "No one in their right mind would date that kid! Too emo!" Another roll of laughter. West held his head down as the two of them walked nearer to the hecklers. They had to pass to get to the East half of the school.

"Hey chick! Did you lose a bet or something?" The rest of the squad were eating it up.

"The swim team," West said under his breath to her. "Just ignore them."

"Hey! I know that chick! She's on the cheerleading squad, right?"

"Must be some sort of initiation thing! Walk with a loser for a day!" They were in stitches and Claire had had it. She turned around so quickly, walking straight up to the table, that they had hardly stopped laughing until they saw her.

"So what if I'm walking with West?" she said, glaring at them beadily. "Is that any of your business?"

"It is if you care what you look like at this school," said a light-brown haired boy from the center of the group. The rest snickered their approval. "West is… Well, he's a bottom feeder. Everybody knows it."

"Maybe I don't care what I look like," she said, crossing her arms. "Maybe I'm happy to be with someone who actually cares about me unlike _you guys_ who _obviously_ aren't with anyone. You may think he's a bottom feeder, but you're the one who's a parasite feeding off people's egos." The brown-haired guy hesitated. In fact, they all looked taken aback. "Now, if you don't mind, me and the supposed 'bottom feeder' have better things to do than deal with the likes of you." And, with that, she turned, grabbed West by the hand and walked toward the double-doors to the building.

West grinned. "That… was _awesome_."

**_Detroit, MI  
_**_**The Detroit Chronicle  
****Peter, Matt and Sam**_

"The Detroit police department arrested yet another gang downtown who have been plaguing the streets for weeks," the black female newscaster on the TV screen said. The TV was propped on a metal shelf overlooking a row of desks. Peter and Matt watched on. "The group, totaling four, were responsible for damage and graffiti on many properties and admitted to their crimes before trying to escape police. I guess some people never learn."

"Luckily," Matt added, nodding at Peter.

"In other news," the woman continued, "a different kind of hero has emerged in the Southern states over the past few days. Police are discouraging rumors, but recently a couple of criminals were found tied up a few blocks from the convenience store they robbed, stolen money included, in Savannah, Georgia. Witnesses claimed to have seen a masked man stopping the criminals but no evidence was found. Whether by justice or vigilantism, it is agreed that the world can always use more heroes."

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Peter turned to see Sam had walked up to them. He was staring at the screen above them with a folder in his hands and a smile on his face.

"She your girlfriend?" Peter asked.

"Girlfriend? Corinne Porter?" Sam chuckled, shaking his head. "No, just… No. Not yet, at least." Sam added the last part much quieter than the rest. He seemed nervous so Peter decided not to press on with it.

"Do you have the photos?" Matt asked. Sam smirked.

"Indeed, I do." He sat at his desk and opened the folder in his hands. Beginning to sift through the photos, it took him a minute before he found the ones he was looking for. "These," he said, "are the ones I took in Odessa. They're a little frantic, but I think I got a good shot of him." He handed the photos to Peter and Matt.

Frantic was an understatement. Between the arms and mid-sections of the reporters around him, Sam must have tried to shoot the photos without steadying the camera first. "I've got something here," Matt said and Peter looked on with him. An arm obscured the view of half the picture, but it was clear enough: a man headed toward the exit of the building.

"Looks like he's wearing a baseball cap," Peter said, tilting his head, "but I can't see his face. Can't even tell what team's on the cap. He's turned around."

"What can I say? I tried to get his picture as quick as I could, but it's hard with a bunch of scared news personalities around you." Sam shrugged, arms folded over the camera hanging from his neck. "Heck, I was scared myself."

"Well, at least we know he's into baseball," Matt said, rolling his eyes. "Did you find anything, Peter?"

"This one looks like he's turned a bit more forward, but – " _FLASH!_ "What the – !" Peter looked up to see Sam pulling his camera down from his eyesight.

"What did you do that for?!" Matt said, blinking his eyes awkwardly. Sam smiled weakly.

"Oh, sorry! Didn't mean to catch you off-guard," he said apologetically. "Just wanted to get your picture. Who knows? This might make a good story if you can figure out who shot him."

"Just don't do it again," Peter said, turning back down to the photos in his hands.

"Right. Sorry." Sam looked over his shoulder at a woman a few desks away then turned back. "You know, there might be a roll of film I missed. I'm going to go check the dark room again."

"Yeah." Peter raised his eyebrows. "Sure." Sam walked away toward the way he had just come. Peter shook his head. "This is the only guy who got a half-decent photo of who shot my brother?"

"Beggars can't be choosers, I guess." Matt chuckled, flipping through the photos again.

-x-

He had to find an excuse to get toward the other side of the room. It wasn't a great one, but they seemed to buy it. When he had gone a good distance, Sam stopped at a desk near a tall column that held the room together and quickly grabbed the phone. He dialed and waited. The line was picked up.

"Hello? Christie?" He tried to keep his voice down even if he wasn't sure anyone was interested in listening. "No, this isn't Craig, it's me. …Me! Sam! Two desks away from you for however many years…" He peeked around the column then pulled back.

"Yes, I know I'm not at my desk. Look, just listen for a second. Do you see those guys standing at my desk?" He drummed his fingers nervously on the desk. "Know who they are? They're from the Odessa incident. One says he's that Petrelli guy's brother." He tapped his foot on the carpeted floor. "Okay, yeah, he does kind of look like him, but that's not the point. …Yes, I'm getting to why I'm calling from Craig's desk. Just listen!"

He took a deep breath.

"You know how I told you about what happened in Odessa?" Sam said, glancing around himself. "Well, I kind of didn't tell you everything. … Yeah, I know, but you wouldn't have believed me unless I had proof and I have it now. You see, after the ex-congressman got shot, those two guys pulled him into the back. Well… I was desperate for something to report that no one else had seen… and I think I saw it."

He peeked around the corner again. The two were still going over the photos.

"I followed them into the back, Christie. They were yelling at each other about how to get the guy to a hospital. And…" Sam gulped, unsure about what he was about to say, but he had to tell someone. Someone had to believe him for once.

"And I think… I think I saw them disappear."

He held the phone away from his ear at her outburst. Quickly, he peeked around the corner. Christie was standing up away from her phone and attracting the attention of a few too many people. She smiled weakly at those around her, her eyes glancing a few too many times over at Peter and Matt, before sitting down at her desk and picking up the receiver.

"I know. I know it sounds crazy, but I saw it with my own eyes. And now they're here!" Sam nodded furiously. "Christie… Christie, just listen! If I can prove what I saw… I know, but if I can _prove_ it, it would be the greatest story I've ever written! It's not just the Chronicle I'd be looking at – that's national news! Maybe even global!" Sam grinned at the thought of it. "Maybe enough to get interviewed on TV." He thought of Corinne Porter and his grin widened.

"I know it's a lot to prove, but if I can do it… Things would be a lot better off, I'll tell you that. You think I can do it, right?" His finger thumping and foot-tapping ceased. He took another breath, calmer. "Thanks Christie. You're a good friend."

"What are you doing?"

Sam turned quickly to find Matt staring at him inquisitively. "Phone rang. Answered it. Instinct." His throat was so tight, he could hardly speak in more than two word phrases. It was a good thing he thought quickly or he couldn't have gotten that much out. Matt continued to stare and Sam tried to smile. Slowly, Matt moved over to the column and peeked around it across the room.

"Did you find the other roll?" Matt asked.

"The, uh, roll? Nope." Sam tried not to look over at Christie, phone still in his hand. "Guess I shot less than I thought I did." Matt turned again, giving Sam another look.

"Uh huh." Sam held his breath. He didn't seem to know, but… "Come on, there's too many photos to go through for just to two of us over there." He exhaled. He was safe. Or, at least, safe for the moment. Getting up from the desk, Sam placed the receiver back on the line and followed Matt to his desk.

**_Tokyo, Japan  
_**_**Yamagato Industries  
****Hiro and Ando**_

"Where is that?" Ando asked. He squinted at the picture looking for a mark of where the ice-covered street could be. "It could be anywhere. It could be Antarctica!"

"I don't think there are any paved streets in Antartica," Hiro replied. Ando shrugged. "If anything, we know the e-mail mentioned 'three months'."

"Three months isn't a lot of time when you really think about it."

"I killed Sylar in five weeks," Hiro said. "Three months is plenty of time."

"Well, when are you leaving?" Ando seemed to presume the answer.

"Now."

"You're leaving?" Both of them turned to see Wendy Riu standing at Hiro's cubicle entrance.

"Leaving?" Ando said. "Who said anything about anyone leaving?"

"You did. Just now." Ando smirked. She'd heard too much for that one to work.

"He meant… leaving my desk… for a while." Hiro looked up to Wendy with hopeful eyes. She smiled.

"Well, have you put the files I gave you into the system yet?" Wendy asked.

"Files? What files?"

"Hiro…" Wendy said, looking around the cubicle and seeing them strewn across the far end of the desk. Walking over to them, she picked them up and handed them to him. "Korumu wants these in before you leave."

"Of course." Hiro looked over at Ando with a gleam of anger in his eyes. Ando grimaced. "I just… need to use the bathroom." Hiro got up from his seat, folder still in hand, and left the cubicle.

"What's that?" Wendy leaned toward Hiro's computer screen, looking over the digital photo of a street and man's legs covered in ice. Ando reached over quickly and minimized the photo and e-mail.

"Nothing. Just a program Hiro was testing out," Ando said, smiling a little too wide. "Made that picture this morning. Good program, right?" Wendy looked him over suspiciously, but ultimately left Hiro's cubicle. Whew, that was a close one.

-x-

Hiro walked quickly, trying to find a place to go. He looked behind him to see Wendy leaving his cubicle. She turned to look at him and he turned away, continuing to walk. After turning a corner, he scanned the room, trying to find somewhere he could use to time travel. He couldn't do it just anywhere and randomly disappear in front of people.

And there it was on the wall to his right. A closet. Inconspicuous enough that he wouldn't be asked why he had entered it and closed the door behind him.

-x-

Where was he going? Wendy followed Hiro around the corner just in time to see him head for… a closet? Didn't he say he had to go to the bathroom? Either way, Hiro entered the closet and, with half a glance over his shoulder, closed the door behind him.

Did… did he have a girlfriend? The thought of Hiro meeting a girlfriend in a closet was… No, it was too out-of-the-ordinary, especially for Hiro. Wendy didn't know what he was doing in there, but she was going to find out.

She walked directly up to the door and, hesitating only a moment, knocked. It was polite, after all. Nobody answered, but she was sure he was in there. Taking a deep breath and clearing her imagination of what he could be doing in a closet, she opened the door.

It was empty. Except for a few jackets and umbrellas, nothing was in it. Had she imagined him coming into it? Why would Hiro be in a closet anyway? What had she been thinking? She turned away, ready to let her imagination take the blame, when something caught her eye.

A folder on the floor. She bent down to pick it up and, with a bit of hesitation at what she might find, checked the documents inside. It was the same one Hiro had left his cubicle with. Something was wrong here. She saw Hiro go _into_ the closet and never saw him leave. He wasn't _in_ the closet yet here was something he had had not five minutes ago. But it was impossible. People didn't just… disappear.

_**Costa Verde High School  
****Claire Bennett**_

"Censorship!" The entire class jumped collectively. Ms. Copper was loud and, obviously, not caring who she scared in the process. "The leading antagonist against creative and rebellious minds. Who's got a definition?"

Claire's hand went up. "The act of withholding or suppressing information by the government." Or by a certain special Company, but she kept the thought to herself.

"Correct! By the government. The Man. _Five-oh!_" Copper said, causing more than a few chuckles around the class. Claire wasn't one of them. She'd been too wrapped up in the subject since her father had told her not to anger the Company. She felt a hand on her arm and turned to West. He gave her a congratulatory nod. "It is this supposed _needed sacrifice_," said with obvious contempt, "that causes the true revolutionary ideas of our time to be discarded – kept secret from the public eye and ear – and never seen again."

"Here's a revolutionary idea," West said.

"Yes? An inspiration?" The teacher looked excited.

"Can I get a hall pass so I can use the bathroom?" A few around the class snickered, but the teacher wasn't pleased. She still gave him the pass, with a mild glare, and he left quickly.

"Now, as I was saying, censorship can only be done by the government. If a private office or company will not let you say or publish something, that is _not_ considered censorship…"

"_Psst_. Hey, cheerleader." Someone whispered from behind her. She turned to see it was the brown-haired guy from that same morning. She turned back, uninterested. "Hey, wait." He rounded the table he was sitting at and sat in West's chair next to her.

"Someone's sitting there," Claire whispered, not looking at him.

"I don't think he'll mind."

"I think – "

"Something you wanted to add, Ms. Butler?" Copper looked directly at her and Claire's eyes went wide. She smiled weakly.

"No, Ms. Copper," she replied. The teacher eyed her beadily but returned to the lesson. Claire glared at the boy sitting next to her. "Thanks for that. Now, leave me alone." She hoped she had put enough malice in her voice to ward him off, but he continued to sit next to her.

"I just wanted to apologize for this morning."

"Apology _not_ accepted. Now, _go away_."

"I really am. I mean," he continued, leaning toward her, "I don't know what you think about me, but I'm not as bad as you think I am." Claire rolled her eyes.

"Bad? No, I never thought of you as bad. You're a perfectly good _jerk_. Now, could you just – "

"Ms. Butler." Not again. She didn't even want to look at the glare Copper was giving her, though it pierced her like a javelin. "If you'd like to share your personal experience with censorship, we'd all be glad to hear it." The fact that she actually did have a personal experience closely related to censorship did cross her mind, but she thought not to provoke Copper's rage.

"No, Ms. Copper, I think I'm done sharing." Claire gave a venomous glare to the guy next to her.

"Good. Now, if we could return to 1786…"

"Look," the guy said, keeping his voice down, "I just wanted you to know that if there's anything I can do to change your mind about me…"

"No, _you_ look, whoever you are – "

"Jonah. My name's Jonah."

"Well, Jonah, I – "

"Ms. Butler!" Oh no. Copper looked livid. "If you refuse to listen to me, maybe you'll listen to the principal. I know we're talking about fighting the system, but I would rather you start your rebellion _outside_ of my classroom!" A fit of chuckling went across the room and Claire stared intently at her notebook on the table. This was what she got for staying in Costa Verde. The teacher returned to the lesson, but kept an eye toward Claire for the next few minutes. Jonah didn't find a safe time to talk until he leaned on his arm and turned his head in the opposite direction.

"Just, you know, if there's anything I can do, let me know." Claire held her mouth shut and didn't look toward him.

"You're in my seat." She looked up and sighed, relieved to see West had returned. Jonah smirked and got up, heading for his seat at the table behind them. West looked from him to Claire and sighed, sitting down. "What'd I miss?"

_**Houston Police Station  
****Billy Baker**_

"William Baker." Officer Reed kept a constant tone of disappointment in her voice. Billy kept his eyes averted. They both sat at her desk while the other officers and criminals kept to themselves. He had never been to a police station before, let alone carted away to one for doing a crime. She continued to read from his file in her hands. "Twenty-two years old, one-hundred eighty-three pounds, six-one. Graduated from Bell Creek High School with a three-point-five GPA. Worked at a grocery store for three years before quitting. Got a mother in the hospital and a father who left at a young age. Never convicted of a crime… until now." She leaned forward. "So, why now, William?"

He looked up at her, sitting slumped in his chair with his arms folded in front of him. "You tell me."

"Well," she said, placing his file on the desk, "I'm going to guess you were pretty desperate. Not a lot of your kind starts robbing convenience stores out of nowhere."

"My kind?" This should be good.

"You don't fool me, kid." She tried to look him straight in the eyes, but he turned away again. "You're middle-class. Parents make enough to pay a mortgage but not enough for that Xbox 360 you wanted. Too expensive, they told you and you hated them for it. Then, low-and-behold, Christmas comes and there it is where you knew it would be." Billy rolled his eyes, but she didn't let up. "You may act tough and urban, but you've got what you need. You don't _need_ to steal for it. So, why are you?"

He didn't say anything. So, maybe she did have an _idea_ of who he was, but that didn't mean anything.

"Okay," she said, nodding. "You don't have to say anything. I'll just let them throw you in jail and we'll see what a judge has to say about it."

"Wait," he said quickly. He knew she had the hint of a smile on her face even if he wasn't looking. "What if… Let's just say I was doing it for a good cause."

"Oh, yeah," she said, wagging a finger at him. "I had heard that Red Cross was looking for petty thieves to chip in. You know, do their part."

"That's not what I meant!"

"Well, explain it to me." She crossed her arms just like his, eyebrows raised. "I'm all ears." He looked like he was about to say something, but he closed his mouth. She wouldn't understand. Even if he tried to explain it, all it would do is sink him deeper into the hole he was digging.

"Never mind." The lights above them flickered quickly.

"Wouldn't have anything to do with your mother being in the hospital, would it?" Billy looked up at her but still kept his mouth shut. "I know people who have stolen for less. It still doesn't make it right."

"You don't understand…"

"No, _you_ don't understand!" Officer Reed leaned forward, putting her face near his. "Stealing is a _crime_ no matter what bells and whistles you put on it. It's still stealing." He glared at her, anger boiling under the surface. She leaned back into her chair. The lights above them flickered again. "Now, I understand that you may have your reasons, but there are better ways."

"Like what?"

"Like a job! Like everyone else makes money." Billy shook his head. She didn't know at all. "You're a good kid, William, but you can't rely on stealing money. You don't need to." The lights in the room flickered violently. "Damn lights."

The phone on Reed's desk rang. She picked it up immediately. "Yeah? Uh huh. Who is it? Bur_what_?" Billy looked up quickly. No, it couldn't be him. "Yeah. Okay, I'll be right up."

She put the receiver back down and looked over at Billy, eyes narrowed. "Somebody lookin' for ya?" He tried to look as innocent as he could. "Thompson!" A guy with red hair turned to her at the next desk over. "Watch the guy." Thompson nodded and Officer Reed got up from her desk to walk towards the front.

Thompson stood near the desk, trying to look tough. Billy could have out-toughed him easily, but he chose not to. In fact, his eyes were more focused on the file left on the desk. If Burbank was here, he had to get out. Fast.

-x-

Burbank watched the brown-haired female police officer walk toward him. "Something I can help you with?" she asked, eyebrow raised. Burbank smiled.

"Yes, I believe the kid you have detained stole something from me," he said, fixing his coat. "I think he might have it on his person. Can I see him?"

"I don't think we can just let you in, sir. Mr. Baker has committed a crime and is currently being questioned by myself – "

"You didn't leave him alone, did you?" Burbank said quickly.

"Maybe I did. What business is that of – Hey! Where do you think you're going?" Burbank had set off on his own toward the back. Pushing past officers and criminals alike he searched for the desk of Officer Reed. Finally, he knew where it was. Another officer with red hair was looking left and right while glancing at an empty chair.

Billy Baker was gone.

_**Costa Verde High School  
****Jonah Parrish**_

Yep, she was a cheerleader alright. He watched from afar beside the bleachers while the Costa Verde cheerleaders practiced. It was late and practice for the swim team had been over for half an hour. He'd hardly noticed the time. Something about her, something about this cheerleader, drew him to her but he didn't know exactly what.

He smiled. The girl he watched in particular, 'Claire' he thought West had called her in class, had tripped a little but regained her composure. Maybe that was it. Most of the girls at Costa Verde were so… shallow and narrow-minded. Must have been the heat that attracted them all here, he always thought to himself. But Claire wasn't. She had composure, she had depth, she had… something more. If only he could turn back time and pick her up before West had.

The girls finished another cheer and were hugging each other, Claire throwing her pom-poms in a bag while she talked with them. A few of the girls were already headed his way toward their cars and he slinked back into the shadows as they passed.

Maybe… Maybe he could offer Claire a ride or something. There didn't look like anyone waiting for her. He looked over to see Claire getting into a conversation with the head cheerleader while the rest of the girls scattered in different directions. Come on, Claire. Come this way.

He heard a rustle behind him. Oh, no. Now a cheerleader was going to whine at him for watching them by the bleachers. He turned and… "Look, you girls just – _whoa, whoa, WHOA!!_"

His legs swung frantically as he shot up into the air!

**_Tokyo, Japan  
Hiro Nakamura_**

He took a deep breath, thinking of the mission at hand. Go to the future, find out what was going on, and find a way to stop it in the present. He'd done it before and he could do it now. Dropping Korumu's files at his feet he began to concentrate on three months into the future.

There was a knock at the closet door. He hesitated. Who knocked at a closet door unless… Oh, no.

Thinking quickly, he concentrated on three months into the future more furiously. He swore he heard the doorknob to the closet turn, but the _whoosh_ of cold air against his ears blocked it out. He closed his eyes and the closet was far behind him. After less than a second of his body being compressed tightly in a vacuum of cold air, the _whoosh_ stopped and he felt solid ground underneath his feet. But the cold air hadn't stopped. In fact, it had gotten worse.

Hiro opened his eyes, shivering. He was standing alone in a school bus. All of the windows were iced over except one near the front – it was cracked and let the cold air in. The floor and seats were covered in a thick layer of snow. He wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing them. His shoes made large, deep imprints as he made his way toward the front of the bus. He tried to get a good look of what to expect out of the windows, but the ice over each of them distorted everything too much. He would have to go outside.

He grabbed at the handle, freezing to the touch, that opened the bus's front door and pushed. It was hard work, but he forced the front door open enough that he could make it out. Immediately a gust of cold air flew into the bus and he shivered more prominently. Squeezing out the front door, he stepped out and almost slipped on the pavement outside. Regaining his bearings, he looked around him. He was on a road that led out into the middle of nowhere. All was white as far as the eye could see. Maybe he _was_ in Antarctica.

To think, he had just been in a closet and hadn't thought to grab a coat.

The bus he was just in was turned diagonally on one side of the road. He rounded the front of the bus, treading carefully, to look at where the other side of the road went. Teeth chattering, his eyes went wide. He knew he had seen one street covered in ice, but he hadn't expected this.

An entire cityscape stood before him a few miles down the road. All of it was covered in ice and snow. A large sign stood about half-a-mile down the road with a few letters missing off the front. It wasn't complete, but it was easy enough to read what it wanted to say: WELCOME TO –

"Las Vegas?" Hiro said, confused. He had been here before. He had cheated the casinos with Ando. He met Nathan Petrelli in a diner on the side of the road. He had achieved getting into Linderman's vault and getting Kensei's sword. He knew what Las Vegas looked like. It was a desert! How did Las Vegas turn into Iceland?

**_Costa Verde High School  
West Rosen_**

He crept up behind Jonah, a sneer on his face. He had been watching him from the parking lot and didn't like what he saw. Luckily, he still had a little memory stuffed inside his glove compartment. He was wearing the same mask he'd worn when he and Claire had tricked Debbie the head cheerleader into thinking Claire had died. Hopefully, it would be as effective now as it was then.

_Snap!_ West cursed himself internally for stepping on a twig. There went the element of surprise as Jonah started to turn around. He couldn't hold back now.

"Look, you girls just – _whoa, whoa, WHOA!!_" West grabbed him quickly under the arms and pulled Jonah into the air. He smiled. Jonah looked like he hadn't been so scared in his life! "What the _hell_?!"

"So you like looking at cheerleaders, huh?" West called out to him over the rush of air around them.

"Who the hell are you?!"

"It doesn't matter! Stay away from Claire!" Short, sweet and to the point.

"Who are you, her keeper?"

"Didn't I say… it doesn't _matter_?" West swung him around and climbed higher. He had to make sure Jonah was going to listen to him. "Now, what are you going to do?"

"You really don't want to do this." Oh, so now _he_ was going to tell him what to do?

"Oh, yeah?" West climbed even higher, then dropped a few feet, giving Jonah an abrupt jolt. He may not have been the strongest person in the world, but he could handle this much. He wasn't extremely high, after all. "I think you aren't in a position to bargain. Now, _what are you going to do_?!"

"You asked for it!" Jonah reached up and grabbed him by the shirt with both hands. What was he going to do, pull him to the ground? Suddenly, West felt a chill in his chest. He knew that if he flew too high, the air started to get cold, but this was different. It was much colder and more specific. He looked down to see the points where Jonah was grabbing and gasped. His shirt was turning to… _ice_.

**Freedom… is not without it's consequences.**

"What… what are you doing?" West breathed. He could feel the cold reaching into his lungs.

"Get us down!" Jonah yelled. He had taken the control away. West thought he would have the advantage, but Jonah had taken it away. West started to breathe faster.

"I – I can't br…" He started to gasp. Jonah held on to him tighter.

"_Get us down, NOW!_"

**There is an order found in the cycle of being caught and being free.**

But the ice was filling up his lungs. They were frozen. "I – I…" West had one last gasping breath before he started to lose consciousness.

**And without that order, we as a species may slip into the unknown, fall into the abyss.**

They were falling. Jonah was screaming. West could hear him only over the roar of the air flying past them. But he'd be dead before he hit the ground if he couldn't breathe. West tried once more but his lungs wouldn't expand. And they were falling… falling… falling…

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	4. Ice Man

**Author's Note:** Sorry about how long this chapter took to finish. This one required a lot of thought and, when you read it, you'll find out why. Enjoy!

-x-

**_Peter Petrelli_**

A door opened and he entered it. Immediately, a strong icy wind hit him in the face and he held up a hand against it. Snow. He was trudging through snow and didn't know where he was. Opening his eyes to a squint he saw someone coming toward him in the white world surrounding him. A nurse. She had her head down and made no tracks in the snow.

"Caitlin?" Peter asked. He recognized her immediately but she obviously didn't recognize him. She passed him by without a glance, went through the open door and shut it. _Snap!_

The wind calmed down to a wisp. He was in Nathan's hospital room though the windows were all iced over. The metallic beep of the pulse monitor echoed through the room. Nathan was hidden from view, bed sheets covering him from head-to-toe. Peter shivered, walking across the snow-covered tiles to one side of the bed.

"Nathan?" He pulled back the bed sheets. Nathan wasn't there. In his place a perfectly shaped pile of snow was sitting.

"Peter." He turned. It was Nathan, pale-skinned and eyes dilated. The sight was less jarring but made him look less loving, more serious. "Don't be afraid."

"Nathan, I'm not – "

"_FIND HIM!_"

"Peter!"

"_Caitlin!_"

_Gasp!_ Peter jumped up in his hotel bedroom. Sitting straight up in bed, he breathed quickly trying to recount what he'd seen in his dream. It was Nathan again, but it was different. Something was colder about it. Snow everywhere and ice on the windows. That and…

"Caitlin…" _RING!_ He picked up the phone on the night stand. "Hello? Hey Matt. Yeah, I'm alright. Just a dream. I – " But as he leaned to the left he noticed something. The notepad and pens from his night stand with the hotel's brand label were in bed with him. He picked up the notepad and looked it over. "Hmm. Oh, it's nothing. I must have woken up at some point. Because I drew something. And it looks like Hiro's got his own problems to deal with."

He had drawn a picture of Hiro trudging through snow on an icy street.

**_Las Vegas, NV  
Three Months Into The Future  
Hiro Nakamura_**

He walked along in the freshly dropped snow, his footsteps leading farther back than he could see. His teeth were chattering, his body was shaking and he'd seen no one since he arrived. Finishing another block, the only thing that kept him going was the prospect of finding somewhere warm. And something told him if he did not find that place soon, he never would.

**Warm-blooded animals need to generate warmth through energy, inside and out.**

He looked ahead at the Las Vegas strip. Icy towers of the world that once was sat dormant and, he assumed, empty. This wasn't a bomb that went off. This was a full-blown evacuation.

**But what happens when all around us a sudden chill turns into a frozen tundra?**

Cars were abandoned in the street, shop windows were broken into and the cold was unbearable. Suddenly, he saw a figure walking toward him. He could barely smile, but he quickened his pace. With people there were homes, and with homes came some semblance of warmth.

"Hello?" Hiro called. He was closer to the figure. It was a woman in a dark blue dress with red hair. "Hello, miss?" But she didn't respond. The snowy air made her look like a walking statue. "He – hello?" He walked right up to her and stopped completely, horrified.

She was pale all over. He realized why she looked like a stature from afar – she might as well have been up close. And her eyes… Her eyes looked permanently dilated. She continued to walk past as though she couldn't see or hear him, as though he wasn't there at all.

**Can we adapt? Can we survive?**

She was not alone. A man and woman sat on a bench on the other side of the street. Both were still and as pale as the last woman. A man with brown hair walked by. He wore sandals and, like the red-haired woman, did not notice Hiro walking in the opposite direction. More arrived, as oblivious as the others, and Hiro felt surrounded. All of them were wearing regular clothes. All of them didn't seem to notice they were walking through two inches of snow. It was like they were in a trance, like they lived out their daily lives without knowing the world around them changed and that they had changed with it.

**Or will ice fill our veins until we are no longer as alive as we once were?**

Hiro continued forward, unsure of what was going on around him. As he stepped forward, large black lettering appeared around his last four footsteps.

**Chapter Four  
****Ice Man**

One question plagued him through the blistering cold – where was _he_ at? The last time he had gone into the future he had run into himself. Was his future self trapped in a trance as well? And, if so, how was he able to send himself a warning?

"Hiro…"

He turned quickly or as quickly as he could with his frozen feet in the snow. He could see a figure far back where he had been ten minutes before. He squinted but could barely make out who it was. If anything, the wind started to pick up, tossing snow off the towering buildings and swirling in the street. The more he squinted though…

"Ando…?" It was a stretch as the person appeared covered in a dark coat, but it looked like the kind of coat Ando would wear. "Ando, is that you?" he called but wasn't sure if the person received the message.

"Hiro…" The voice was calling to him. He made his decision. He started to walk back where he came. At the very least he would find someone, anyone who knew him and could tell him what was going on. He walked so fast he hardly noticed the truck driving down the street from behind him.

"Stop!" Hiro jumped as the megaphone called out to him. "Identify yourself!" Three black Parka-ed individuals jumped out of the truck, the driver with a handgun pointed. The other two held their hands out to him. They surrounded him easily. He was so cold it was pointless to resist.

"My name… is Hiro Nakamura," he said.

"Are you one of us or one of them?"

"I… I do not know what you mean."

"Are you one of us?" the man with the gun asked. "Are you special?" These were the special people? Had people with abilities taken over? Against his better logic, Hiro nodded.

The two without guns grabbed him by the arms. "Come with us. We'll take you to see The Leader." Moving him toward the street, Hiro had no option but to follow. Suddenly…

"Hiro!" The three guiding Hiro turned, one who's hands turned blinding white as he focused them toward the sidewalk. Hiro looked as well but saw… nothing.

"It's him," the one with illuminated hands said, stepping forward and shining light back and forth in front of him. Him? Him who?

_CLANG!_ The man who stepped forward was knocked sideways, sliding down the icy street a few feet. Another's hands burst into flame and he started to swipe at the air blindly. _CLANG!_ He fell to the other side.

The last forced Hiro close to him, the gun to Hiro's head. His eyes darted all around him frantically. "Make another move and he dies!" Confused beyond all reasoning, Hiro stared around wildly waiting for either the gun to go off or the next _clang_ to knock him down, too. …_CLANG!_

Hiro flinched as the person behind him fell to the icy concrete. "Please… please don't hurt me!"

"Why would I hurt you, Hiro?" The voice didn't sound familiar. It was an accent he didn't recognize. Suddenly, the voice materialized before him into a person. He had scraggly black hair, blue-grey eyes and was wearing a large white coat and pants. Dropping the shovel in his hands, he stepped up to Hiro who stepped backward in fear. "Hiro, what's wrong?"

This man was talking to him like a friend, like he knew him. "Who… who are you?" Hiro asked. The man frowned.

"The Haitian…" the man said, sighing angrily. "I heard rumors that he was under The Leader's control. Um… What's the last thing you remember? …Well? Think, time traveler! What is it?"

"I… I came from the past, from three months ago." Hiro had no idea who this was, but if he knew he was a time bender he must have known him at some point.

"That means…" The man shook his head, thinking it over roughly. "Bloody hell, you and this time business is confusing. Come on, follow me." He looked over each shoulder and ran in high boots through the snow toward an alleyway. Hiro, shivering, followed gently. The man was pacing back-and-forth when Hiro caught up to him.

"Okay," he said, scratching his fading beard thoughtfully, "I think I know how this goes. I met you first a few weeks back, which was either you in that present or you from the future. Now, you're meeting me for the first time by coming from your present _into_ the future. You know," he added, stopping in place with a stern glance at Hiro, "things would be _much_ easier if your lot weren't around, mate."

"I'm very sorry," Hiro said, not trying to cut him off, "but I still do not know who you are."

"Well, I guess today's your lucky day," the man said sarcastically. "My name's Claude Rains and you've just stepped knee-deep into what I like to call… the beginning of end of the world. Now, come on!"

**_Costa Verde, CA  
_**_**Davenport Regional Hospital  
****West Rosen**_

He awoke slowly, his eyes straining to open. There were no windows to the outside in his room, but he could tell it was still late. He winced. His right arm was hurt but it didn't feel broken. Hurt enough for him to feel it, though. His chest hurt as well, his insides aching as though he'd fallen on his chest, but used his arm for support. He couldn't even remember what happened after he lost consciousness. This was what he got for playing the hero. "Claire…" He winced again.

She was standing on the other side of the door to his room. When she looked in through the glass, he smiled. At least that didn't hurt.

**_Claire Bennett_**

There he was, finally awake. He smiled at her and she smiled back. She finally had gotten him back and he was almost gone again. No, she wasn't going to lose him, she didn't lose him, she couldn't. Not like before, not like her father.

"Hey." She turned around. Oh no.

"What are _you_ doing here?" she asked, glaring. Jonah shrugged.

"I just wanted to let you know what happened."

"Oh, I know what happened," Claire sneered, ticking what she heard on her fingers. "Broken ribs, fractured arm and wrist. Do you hate him that much that you had to attack him?"

"I didn't attack him!"

"Oh, of course, you didn't," she said skeptically, shaking her head, "but that doesn't mean your friends didn't. Oh, but you're the Good Samaritan that brought him in here. And that makes it have nothing to do with you. Well, I'm sorry, Jonah, but you're _wrong_. Like it or not, whatever happened to West is _your_ fault."

"You don't get it, do you? _He's_ the one who attacked _me_!" Jonah started to huff, anger growing in his face. Claire rolled her eyes.

"Then, why's he the one in the hospital, Jonah?" Claire asked, eyes glaring beadily at his. Jonah opened his mouth but closed it soon afterward. Run out of lies? Claire turned away toward the hospital door. She wasn't going to give this jerk the satisfaction of lying to her face again. "It's… complicated. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me." Still not looking at him. Jonah was silent.

"I… I can't."

"Then, I think you should leave. You've already caused enough trouble." He sounded as though he wanted to say something else, but instead of saying it, he walked away. Claire watched him walk down the small hallway and through the double swinging doors. Good. West was better off without him around and so was she. With a huff of relief, Claire walked through the hospital door and closed it behind her.

**_West Rosen_**

She walked in after what looked like a fight with Jonah. She smiled immediately and he did, too. He knew this whole thing was probably his fault, but at least she was yelling at someone else, especially Jonah. "How are you?" she asked, standing by his bedside.

"Just great," West said, wincing slightly, "but I think I'm in this hospital bed for a reason." She laughed, placing a hand on his bandaged arm.

"They've already called your parents. They're on their way." West nodded as best he could. Claire sighed in the way she always did when she had something to say that she didn't want to. He remembered it from before when he found out that her father was the man in the horn-rimmed glasses, the man that had kidnapped him for a full day when he was a child. She hesitated once more before she spoke. "Did you… Do you remember what happened tonight?"

"Tonight?" He remembered some of it, but she probably didn't want to hear most of it. "Why?"

"Well, um, Jonah said that you tried to attack him." She folded her hands in front of her, squeezing at each finger nervously in sequence. West froze a moment. Could he tell her? She stared at him expectantly, but he stayed silent. "Well… Did you?"

The moment of truth. He exhaled. Tell her or don't? His brain ran circles around the question as she continued with that expectant stare of hers. He sighed.

"No," West said, feigning ignorance. It wasn't important. She didn't need to know. Not now, at least.

"Okay," Claire said, smiling. He smiled back. Why couldn't he tell her what happened? He hardly remembered himself, but why not that little detail? "I'll be outside if you need me."

He nodded, the feint still ripping his head in two. She didn't need to know. Not now. Claire gave him one final squeeze to his bandaged arm, him wincing, and headed for the door.

**_Las Vegas, NV  
_**_**Three Months Into The Future  
****Hiro Nakamura and Claude Raines**_

Warmth. He had never appreciated warmth so much in his life. They were in a small store off the Vegas strip with it's windows boarded up and the back area turned into a hideout. Bundled up in a couple blankets with a battery-powered space heater three feet away, Hiro was still shivering a bit but he was getting there. Claude had given him three layers of coats to wear until he had gotten used to the temperature change. The cold seemed better, more bearable, in this confined space that Claude brought him to.

"It's not much, but it keeps me warm and off the radar," Claude said, wrapping his coat around himself. "Two things that are scarce around here: warmth and privacy. And it's Vegas, for God's sake!" Claude plopped down into the armchair by the couch Hiro was sitting on. The two pieces of furniture barely fit into the tightly packed room, but they were better than nothing. Hiro squirmed. Claude kept looking up at him then turning away.

"I have so many questions," Hiro said and Claude smirked.

"I'd expect nothing less," Claude replied. "Go on, then. Ask away."

"What happened here?" He picked the one that troubled him most. Claude sighed heavily.

"Well, that's quite a story, isn't it?" He rubbed his hands together. "Where to begin? I guess I'll start where I came in. I was in Manchester when I heard about it. People doing outrageous things all over New York. I hadn't been there in months and felt like it could use a visit. Hopped on a plane in a way only I could just to see what was going on." He shook his head grimly.

"By the time I got there, the situation was worse than I thought. Manhattan was overrun. People were terrified in the streets. I'd heard rumors that it affected people with abilities worst, but that wasn't the half of it. It wasn't just a few people with abilities who had it. Random people, _normal_ people, had gotten it, too. It was insane."

"What did they catch?" Hiro leaned forward with interest.

"Catch? Do you really think I'd go head first into No Man's Land if it was something you could catch by breathing or getting touched?" Hiro shrugged. "I may have made some stupid decisions in my time, but not that stupid. No, it wasn't like a virus you could catch. It was a serum, an injection, and a powerful one at that."

"Someone injected people with it?"

"Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!" Claude taunted and Hiro frowned. "One drop. One drop into your bloodstream and you're a bloody robot. No free will, no choices, total control. I've seen it happen." A shiver went down his spine. "I wouldn't recommend it."

_Control._ That's what the e-mail said. People under other's control. Hiro had a shiver go up his spine at the thought of it.

"And then, somehow, it started to spread. People injected left, right, and center. All under one person's control - the Leader."

"Who is the Leader?"

Claude frowned. "Nobody knows. Rumors ran around that there was some Leader overseeing it all. Rubbish, if you ask me. I think people got a hold of the serum and just started to inject everyone they hated, everyone they wanted power over. _People_... Always looking out for themselves. And this Leader's no different. It's probably just a name this dealer coined to fancy himself more powerful than he actually is. That... or the worst thing we could possibly imagine." Hiro's eyes went wide, but Claude shrugged. "Just rumors I've heard."

"What rumors?" Claude hesitated, leaning back in his chair.

"People saying that this Leader is a person with abilities. One that enjoys gaining power over people and taking their abilities away from them." Hiro shook his head, knowing what that sounded like. Claude, however, laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "Relax, friend. They're only rumors. And I'm here to prove them wrong."

"How are you going to do that?"

"Ah! The question I was most waiting for!" Claude stood and rounded the armchair he was in, reaching into a crate behind it. He pulled out a large rolled-up piece of paper dusted with snow and unrolled it over a row of crates in front of the couch. Hiro leaned forward, taking in all the measurements and notations across it. "This is Caesar's Palace, once a casino, now the infamous central command of 'The Leader.' I swear, the ego on this one must be huge to choose that place. Sure, it's the center of the city, but it's a bit much, don't you think?"

Hiro looked over the schematics again, some of the notes (he noticed) in his own handwriting. With a sigh, he turned to Claude. "What can I do to help?"

"What? Not afraid you'll change something and make the space-time continuum collapse?"

"I'm already here. I want to help." A gleam of fire stood behind his eyes. "And I think I know the space-time coninuum better than you do." Claude smirked.

"I knew I could count on you. Whether future or past, you're always ready to pitch in. You and that ruddy sword of yours." Hiro smiled. Claude stared a moment, then turned away frowning. He cleared his throat then returned to the schematics. "Anyway, to this. I've been doing surveillance for a week and a half. Those who haven't already fled get processed here." He pointed to a loading dock toward the back of the building. "Those that refuse to be processed... are terminated. Most of the security are people who've been injected and security is everywhere."

"It doesn't look like there's any way inside."

"Ah, but that's the beauty of being invisible. They know I'm in the area, but there's no way to tell where I am. It just takes the right person at the right time and nowhere is completely secure." Hiro nodded. He inched closer to an area with an abundance of notes toward the center-right. "What is that?"

"That is where The Leader addresses his people. The stage. Big open area with no way to get close to him."

"You mean..."

"Yeah, I've been inside. Took me forever to get it right, but I made it in. Hardly made it out, though. That was a few days ago." Claude frowned again. And that's when it hit him. The surprise when he met him, the constant glances and the question that had plagued him since his arrival.

"Claude..." Hiro said, taking a deep breath. "Where am I?" Claude didn't turn to look at him. He continued to stare down at the papers on the crates.

"You... are fantastic. Only know one other person as determined to see this over and done with, to help these people. Not for yourself and not just for your friends. For everyone."

"...But where am I?" Hiro held the coats surrounding him tighter, unsure of the answer to come. Claude hesitated.

"You went with me when I went inside Caesar's Palace. When we were found, we ran as fast as we could trying to find an exit. I found the door, but was grabbed from behind by one of the guards. You knocked him out and I broke free. Wasn't until the door closed behind me that I noticed you hadn't gotten out."

"Am I - ?"

"I don't know. I don't think they'd kill you on the spot." Claude turned. "But I know you'd rather die than turn into one of those things under his control. So, I don't know. But I think you're still in there." Hiro could tell Claude was at odds with himself. Hiro smiled and put a hand on Claude's shoulder.

"I know I am." Claude smirked, shaking it off. He jumped up from his seat and crossed the room, staring out of cracks in the boarded up window.

"It's a chilly one tonight. And that's when we'll strike." Claude turned around, a renewed vigor as he stood at the Hiro before him. "So, what do you say, friend? Ready to face the robots?"

Hiro grinned, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Definitely." Claude grinned.

...and the boarded-up window behind him _exploded_!

Boards and glass flew across the room, Hiro shielding his eyes as debris clunked down everywhere. Coughing and sputtering as the tide of cold air flew into the room, he got up just in time to see three black-Parka-ed individuals step inside - two men with guns raised and one female with glowing red-and-gold hands. The woman with the glowing hands ran up to Hiro, grabbing him by the coat. The material began to smoke and sizzle.

"Where is he?" she yelled. Hiro stared around the room. Claude was nowhere to be found.

"I... I don't know what you are talking about." Even if he did, he wasn't going to tell her. She sneered, tossing Hiro back for the men with guns to hold. They were pale-skinned and eyes-dilated, just like the people in the street.

"He disappeared again." Her hands glowed brighter but Hiro was the only one to cringe at the sight of it. "Take him back to the base. The Leader will want to see him." The pale Parka-ed men with guns nodded, gripping Hiro tighter and leading him out of the door. Hiro glanced around a final time, but it was pointless. Whoever this "friend" was obviously didn't care that these people were taking him away. Claude was gone and Hiro was alone.

**_Austin, TX  
Billy Baker and James Silverton_**

He zipped up the stairs, down the hallways, almost ran into an Asian man listening to an iPod, tripped, rolled, and landed just in front of the door to his apartment. All done in eight seconds flat. Breathing heavily, he clambered to his knees to find someone else had been standing in front of his door moments before.

"Mr. Baker." He looked up, glad to find the voice coming from his landlady. "Your rent is late."

"Sorry, Ms. Sikora," He said, getting to his feet. "It's been kind of hard getting money lately with my mother in the hospital."

"That's... unfortunate." She spoke sympathetically but her eyes were lacking compassion. "Still doesn't get the rent paid. Do you have a job?"

Billy wrestled a hand into his pocket for his keys. "I'm kind of... between jobs." She rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. He didn't notice as he forced the key into the lock and turned.

"Between jobs doesn't cut it, Mr. Baker," she said as he opened the door hurriedly. "Hey!" He turned. "You okay?"

"Fine." He may have said it a bit too fast but Sikora seemed to take it.

"Your mother always had the rent in on time." She stared him down angrily. Billy shrugged, getting the hint. "You should follow her example. If you don't, I'm kicking you out."

"Thanks, Ms. Sikora." He started to enter the apartment.

"You have until the end of the week."

"Okay, Ms. Sikora." He closed the door.

"How's your mother?" But he didn't hear her as the door shut. He was too busy getting slapped on the back of the head by Jay.

"Ow! Hey, what the - ?"

"What did you do?" Jay was looking more serious than he ever did. "I waited ten minutes then heard the sirens coming from a mile away. What did you do wrong, Billy?"

"It wasn't me."

"Oh, sure. And the fact that when I drive past cops are swarming the place doesn't mean anything. That's crap, Billy!" Jay grabbed him roughly by the shirt and shoved him up against the door. "I'm not having another Bolton, Billy. You can't make stupid mistakes! If you're going to get me caught then I want nothing to do with you!"

Billy shoved him off. "It wasn't my fault, okay? Not now _or_ then! And, if I remember correctly, last time I'm the one who had to save you!"

"You wouldn't have had to save me if you hadn't screwed up in the first place! If you had just stuck to the plan - "

"Just shut up!" Billy yelled. "It's over, okay? What's done is done. We need to focus on what's going on _now_."

"Alright," Jay said, folding his arms in front of him, "what did you do _now_?" Billy barely let it slide. He had more important things to get through than arguing.

"There's this guy after me, maybe us. I don't know. He said his name was Burbank, Mr. Burbank or something."

"Mr. Burbank?" The skepticism was thick in his voice. "You're saying some... guy saw you robbing a convenience store... and played the hero? And you couldn't handle him?" Billy shook his head.

"This was different." Jay still didn't seem to be convinced. "He was... It was like he was looking for me, he _found_ me. He knew my name."

"Whoa..." Jay stepped backward without meaning to. Billy moved over to the cough, sitting on the arm rest.

"And it's not just that. I... I think he's _like me_. Not fast or anything, but he can do things people shouldn't be able to do."

"I guess you're not one of a kind anymore." Jay smirked and backhanded Billy in the arm, but Billy brushed it off.

"I'm serious." Jay backed off. "I... I don't know. I've just thought that ever since I found out about this... this thing I can do, I knew there had to be others like me."

"And even more that want to take it from you!" Jay said, sticking out his arms like Frankenstein. He let his tongue fall out for effect. Billy stared at him blankly. After a moment, Jay stopped, shrugging and leaning up against a wall. "I get it, okay? You're not alone. Big whoop. It's weird enough that you can run a mile in two seconds, but to think that there are others out there... and that one is after _you_... I don't know." The TV near Jay began to flicker. "It all just seems so... weird." The lights above them flickered twice. Both of them looked up. "Don't tell me they're turning the electricity off."

"No," Billy said, glancing from the TV to the ceiling, "I think... I think it's him."

"He can... Wait, he can make the lights go on and off?"

"The same things happened in the police station." Billy began to go across the room, grabbing things and throwing them in a pile on the couch.

"Wait, wait, wait... You have a _record_ now?" Jay asked, bewildered. Billy ignored him.

"The longer we're here, the closer he gets." He grabbed a bag from the corner of the room and started to pack. "If he can find me in a convenience store in Houston, he can find me at home."

_Knock, knock, knock._ Billy turned. "He's here."

-x-

Burbank was about to try the door when an ounce of compassion wrapped around his brain. He looked over at the woman sprawled on the floor beside him. Mid-forties, dark brown hair and a little too good at her job for Burbank's purposes. Sikora he thought her name was. There she laid, silent as the strike that put her down. She was only knocked out, but still he hated involving those that didn't need to be.

Oh, well.

_SLAP!_ Sounded like something closing shut. Couldn't be good. Throwing caution to the wind, Burbank summed up what physical power he had and kicked the door in.

It was a small apartment with a hallway that led to only two rooms and a bathroom. He'd done his homework beforehand so he knew the only places they could be. He checked the apartment quickly, hands at a ready position. Any attack from all sides would be covered - this wasn't his first time checking around someone else's home.

_Vrr... Vrrooomm..._ No, it couldn't be. _Vrrooom... VRROOOOOMMM!_ There was only one way in and one way out. Unless...

Burbank ran to the window just in time to see a red convertible pulling off down the street. He'd read the layout wrong. The fire escape _did_ reach this level in the complex. No matter. He straightened his trench coat as the convertible turned the corner down the street. He smiled. The chase was on. And who _doesn't_ love a chase?

**_Costa Verde High School  
Jonah Parrish_**

He had to tell her. Claire walked up to her locker and twisted the combination into it. Jonah hesitated from across the courtyard, surrounded by his swim team colleagues. They were laughing and joking about practice the other day and what they heard happened to West. Yeah, it was funny, but a small part of him twinged when he thought about it.

"Hey, Jonah!" He turned to his friend Mike. "I heard you're the one who pulled West back from the brink. What's up with that, man?" The rest of the group's heads started to turn toward him. He shrugged.

"It was nothing," Jonah said.

"Didn't sound like nothing from what I heard..." The eyes of the group were still upon him.

"So, I took him to the hospital? So what?" Jonah said, smirking slightly. "I found him and he was hurt. He owes me big time for even considering to take him there. I'll tell you this, though. Whoever messed him up deserves a medal." Cries of agreement littered through the group and Jonah's smirk widened. He glanced over his shoulder, though, and his smirk failed. Claire was watching. And she didn't look like she wanted to hear the truth of what happened. As soon as she saw him looking she continued to grab her books, head turned away. Now or never.

He stood up and left the group as they continued sharing rumors of what happened to West. Walking up to her hurriedly, she didn't look up when he approached. He crossed his arms in front of him, hoping to be noticed. "Claire?" She tensed up when she heard his voice.

"What, Jonah? What do you want?" She turned and stared into his eyes intently.

"You're wrong," Jonah said with conviction. "And I can understand that you hate me for whatever reason, but I just wanted to let you know what really happened."

"Oh, I've already heard." She narrowed her eyes. "Someone 'messed him up' and, whoever they are, they 'deserve a medal'. That's what you said, isn't it?"

Jonah frowned angrily. "I was just joking around."

"And it was _so_ funny," Claire shot back, turning away.

"Why can't I just talk to you?"

"Because I don't want to!"

"Just listen to me!"

"Just leave me alone!" Claire turned quickly, grabbing for her last notebook and closing her locker at the same time. "_Ow!_" Jonah gasped in shock. The tip of her finger was caught in her locker door! Teeth gritted, she yanked away leaving her exposed index finger with one less section. She looked up, eyes widened, and Jonah took one step back...

...into their speech teacher, Ms. Copper. He turned around quickly, adrenaline pumping after one shock after another. Ms. Copper, eyes narrowed, stared at them both. Claire held her hands locked behind her back.

"What is going on over here with you two?" Ms. Copper said, scowling.

"Uh..." Jonah didn't really know what to say. How could he tell a teacher that a girl slammed her finger in her locker and he had nothing to do with it?

"Sorry, Ms. Copper," Claire said sympathetically. "We didn't mean for the argument to get so loud." Jonah looked at her in disbelief.

"I thought I heard you yelp, Ms. Butler," Copper said, examining her with her eyes while darting glances of suspicion at Jonah. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," Claire said with a smile. Jonah tried to look as innocent, but still couldn't believe the way Claire was acting. "Everything's fine. Just an argument." Ms. Copper looked at the both of them suspiciously, but walked away without another word.

When Copper was out of earshot, Jonah finally was able to breath. "What the hell was that?"

"What?" Claire tried to keep her look of innocence shining through, but Jonah knew different. When Claire went to unlock her locker again, Jonah grabbed at her injured hand... but it wasn't injured anymore. The section that was missing before was back. "Hey!" She swatted her hand out of his grasp.

"But you..."

"I _what_?" Claire snapped at him. She stared him down beadily.

"You shut your finger in your locker, that's what!" Jonah said in an active whisper. "I saw you! And now... How did you do that?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, but couldn't meet his eyes. This had to be a joke unless... Then, it started to click.

"He was flying..."

"What?" Claire stopped what she was doing immediately.

"West. He was flying and you... You can do something, too, can't you?" He could see it, the fear spreading across Claire's face. He'd figured it out, what was different about her. Most of all, though, he found out why she liked him. And he smirked, her looking at him with uncertainty.

"There's something I have to show you, Claire."

**_Las Vegas, NV  
Three Months Into The Future  
Hiro Nakamura_**

The truck took him to a side entrance guarded by four security personnel - all ordinary enough looking people in regular clothes. More drones. Flanked by the same two gun-laden drones of his own, Hiro was starting to feel as though he was surrounded. The woman who captured him led them inside past the ornate golden door. Her hands were no longer glowing but there seemed to be a fury in her eyes whenever she looked back at him. Hiro chose not to speak as he walked on.

The inside of the casino was strange. Bare of activity with wisps of ice and snow, it felt like the tomb of a great king that had long since died. This had to have happened only weeks before yet it looked like it had been years. A fountain that adorned the central area looked like it was made of part-gold, part-stone, and part glass, the water frozen in place. The woman leading him walked right up to the fountain where a man was sitting on the edge. As he stood, Hiro recognized him. He was the man who had held a gun to Hiro's head only hours before. Now that Hiro wasn't afraid of freezing to death, still wearing the several coats Claude had given him, a rush of anger flowed through him and his eyes narrowed. The man stared back, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing.

They whispered to each other, Hiro couldn't hear. He didn't want to hear. He wanted to meet this Leader so that he could see what he would have to go back and stop when he returned to the present. Each of the whispering duo glanced at him every so often but kept their voices low. Finally, the man nodded to the woman and started to walk away. She grabbed quickly, gently, at his hand, but he pulled it out of her grasp and disappeared into the sea of slot machines. She stood there for a moment before walking back up to Hiro, sneering.

"It seems you are of great interest to the Leader."

"I want to see the - !" She grabbed him by the throat, squeezing slightly.

"I can make your throat implode on itself." Hiro choked, eyes wide, as she squeezed a bit tighter. "Don't tempt me." Hiro sputtered as she let go. Somehow he had the feeling that Future Hiro had left his mark on her. "You will follow me. No questions. Clear?" Hiro glared up at her but nodded.

He was led up a spiral escalator with a statue of Caesar just beyond the railing. The head and shoulders of the statue were removed with a diagonal slice. She took him down a hallway lined with security drones and stopped at the second to last door. Hiro gasped. Standing at the door was a man he only knew briefly and only when he had last gone to the future. Claude was right. The Leader had gotten to the Haitian.

"He's here," the woman leading Hiro said. The Haitian nodded and opened the door on command. His eyes were just as dilated as the rest of them. Hiro had never known The Haitian personally, but as he walked into the room he couldn't help but feel sorrow for him. "Watch him. Make sure he doesn't escape. By force or by ability."

"Ability?" Hiro said, turning around. "You know that I can - !" _Thud!_ The door shut. That's right. He just remembered. The Haitian wouldn't let him stop time in the future. He concentrated hard, trying to slow down time, but only felt an absence of his ability. Even if he wanted to leave, he couldn't.

"You have an ability?"

Hiro turned toward a corner of the large room. There was a desk on the left broken in half, papers all over the floor, and a normal albeit untrimmed looking man sitting in the far corner. He had thick sandy-brown hair and a mustache and his clothes had rips along the sides. Hiro didn't know what to say. Was this person to be trusted?

"It's been a while," the man said, wiping his nose with his sleeve, "since I've seen anyone. They grabbed me. I was so... so stupid. But you!" He flung his hands forward and Hiro stepped back. "You can get us out! ...Can't you?" Hiro frowned.

"I'm sorry," Hiro said. "I cannot. That man outside the door. He can stop people from using their powers." The man's excitement faltered. "I can't do anything."

"You...you can't..." His knees shook. Without warning, he fell into a sitting position.

"Are you okay?" Hiro came over to him cautiously, unsure of what was wrong with him.

"Then... Then I can't..." His head sagged and he stared at the floor. "It's all my fault... _Why is it always my fault?_" He punched the floor, but it didn't seem to help his cause. His shoulders shook. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." Hiro knelt down and put a hand on the man's shoulder. "

"I wish there was something I could do." The man looked up slowly. His eyes were full of tears. He smiled somberly.

"Don't worry," he said. "I know that we're stuck here." Hiro frowned, wondering what could have done this to this man. "I just... I could have used a hero, you know?" He'd lost his hope. Hiro watched as the man's head sagged once again and he knew without asking that this man had been broken. No, he couldn't let him give up. If there was anything Hiro was good at, it was giving hope.

"And one has found you." Hiro held out his hand. "Hiro Nakamura. I bend space and time." The man looked up, surprised to see a hand held out to him. After a moment, he smiled slightly and shook Hiro's hand.

"Sam Jacobson," he said. "And I don't know why these people have kept me here."

-x-

"So, you… _jumped_ from one time to another?" Sam asked. Hiro grimaced.

"Not exactly." It had been an hour since Hiro arrived and Sam was already enthralled with his ability. He had asked questions incessantly and Hiro answered to the best of his ability. "I don't know _how_ I am able to do it, only that I can. This power, this ability – it is a force that I do not fully understand."

"And you came here from three months ago?" Hiro nodded. Sam scratched at his chin, confused. "Then… does that mean this has to happen? Can the future be changed?"

Hiro smiled. "Yes. That is why I am here. To make sure that none of this happens. And all I have left to find out is who this Leader is." The wait was making him anxious. "Why are _you_ here?"

"Me?" Sam shrugged. "I was just trying to catch a story. Do you have any idea what kind of news this is? The desert turning into the Arctic Circle? How the hell does that happen?" He shook his head. "But me? Nah… I'm nothing special."

"There has to be a reason they've kept you for so long."

"Well…" He paused, glancing at the door. He leaned forward and so did Hiro. "When they first brought me here, they took everything off of me. My notepad, my pens, my tape recorder, my camera – gosh, I loved that camera." He gave a sigh of mourning, but continued. "But they didn't find these."

Sam took a deep breath then reached into his coat. He pulled apart the rips and reached deep into the lining of the coat and brought out… sheets of paper? No, he held them up and Hiro realized that they were –

"Photos?"

"I took them when I first got here," Sam said. "The city was… full of people. I mean, it's Las Vegas. There's always people. But after I heard about what happened… I kept thinking about _what_ got hit and not _who_. I expected to see people running for their lives, and they did." He paused a moment. "I never expected to see dozens, hundreds of people who were caught when the city iced over. They were statues. Frozen to death." Hiro turned away, not wanting to imagine it, but Sam grabbed him by the arm. He handed Hiro the photos. "These are from the first time I came here. After I heard about this Leader guy, I came back… and that's when they caught me. Been here ever since."

Hiro looked down at the photos in his hand. He had to hold his breath. The people in these photos were helpless bystanders. An entire city full of bystanders… dead. He flicked through the photos cautiously, as though he were holding these people's lives in his hands, and just when he thought he couldn't take anymore… something caught his eye.

"Great Scott... I've seen this photo before!" Sam sat up, interested. It was a street corner with a lower torso showing, all covered in ice.

"That's impossible," he said, "I haven't shown these to anyone yet. I mean, I have shown a friend or two, but that's about it."

"This photo was linked in an e-mail I received three months ago!" Hiro started to smile. "This is why I'm here in the first place! I think… I think I need this."

"I don't know..." Sam scratched his chin and sighed. "You having a photo I took two weeks ago... It's too much of a coincidence."

"But it's not a coincidence. I've seen too many things that connect to each other too many times. It's fate. Destiny."

Sam shook his head. "And I've seen so many things that should connect, but don't. I've seen some strange things lately, but destiny isn't one of them."

"Then what do you call this?" Hiro waved the picture in his hand at Sam. "How else would I have had this picture, this exact picture, in my e-mail if I hadn't come to meet you here three months later?"

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself. He stared concernedly at Hiro, looking confused. "You could have gotten it from someone else, I don't know. I mean..." And he stopped himself again. "Look, just because you meet someone doesn't mean you were supposed to meet them. Some things just... happen. Dumb luck. The way you're talking I'm _supposed_ to be here, and I wouldn't be here if I hadn't met Peter Petrelli." Sam sulked, but Hiro's eyes lit up.

"You know Peter Petrelli?" Sam looked dumbfounded.

"_You_ know Peter Petrelli?"

"He's the one that led me on the path to becoming a hero." Hiro smiled, wondering where Peter was in all of this insanity.

"He's the one that got me wrapped up in this mess." Sam's face turned sour. "If it wasn't for him..."

"If it wasn't for him, you might have been one of these people." Hiro held up the photos, but Sam turned away.

"How would you know?" Sam asked, a sliver of anger in his voice.

"Because I know Peter Petrelli. I have faith in him."

"Then, you're a better man than me," Sam replied, turning to meet eyes with Hiro, "because if I ever meet Peter Petrelli again... I'll kill him myself."

The door to the room opened. Both of them turned quickly, Sam grabbing the photos and dumping them into a coat pocket as quickly as possible. Hiro held onto the photo in his hand, sticking it into his own pocket as the woman from before entered the room. She sneered, eyes darting from one face to the other.

"The Leader is ready to see you. Get up." Slowly, Hiro got to his feet. Hand still held tightly in his coat pocket, he held onto the photo for dear life. Whatever happened, he had to keep that photo with him. "Follow me."

He gave half a glance over his shoulder to Sam and started to walk out of the room.

"You're going back, aren't you?" Sam said, standing up quickly.

"Sit down," the woman said in a calm fury.

Hiro hesitated, then said, "Yes." The woman grabbed him by the collar of his coat.

"One more word..."

"Then tell Peter... to take the shot. Tell him he has to take the shot." Hiro turned his head, confused, but said nothing. Take the shot? What shot? Before he could reply, though, the woman threw out a glowing red-and-gold hand and half of the broken desk exploded in an cascade of bright light and broken wood. Sam was thrown to the floor, showered with splinters, but the woman closed the door roughly before Hiro could see how injured Sam was.

"Now," she said with a slight smile, "let's try that again. Follow... me." Hiro took a deep breath and nodded. He was ready. It was time to meet the Leader.

_**Costa Verde High School  
****Claire Bennett**_

"I've got to be out of my mind," she said, frowning. She followed Jonah down the hallway and past the classroom they were supposed to be in. She considered just leaving him behind. She considered demanding to know what he wanted to show her. She also considered that he knew what she could do and could tell all of his friends what a freak she was. Yet… something inside of her trusted him. He wasn't telling everyone and he wasn't running away from her. "Out of my mind…"

"It's just this way," he said, smiling. She didn't smile back.

"Where are you two cool kids off to?" It was one of Jonah's swim team friends. He had a smirk on his face that said much more than what he actually said and nothing she liked.

"Nothing much, Mike," Jonah replied, "Just, you know, hangin'." Mike nodded.

"Sure," Mike said, the look not leaving his face. "Hangin'." He grinned and Claire promptly wanted to knock the grin off his face. Mike and Jonah slapped hands before Mike went off to class. Claire glared in his wake.

"Nice choice of friends," she said, the glare moving over to Jonah.

"I could say the same thing to you," Jonah replied, still smiling. "Now, come on. In here." He opened a door and, reluctantly, Claire followed.

They were in an empty science classroom, one Claire had never taken classes in. There were rows of countertops with shelves and sinks. Safety equipment was strewn across hooks and cubbies in a closet in the corner. Jonah crossed the room, moving toward a sink. Claire stood by the door, arms folded in front of her.

"I'm here," she said, eyebrow raised. "Now what?" She didn't mean to be abrasive but she was late for class and had followed a boy into an empty classroom alone. She had every right to be suspicious.

"Well, come over here," he said, beckoning her over to the sink. "I don't bite." He grabbed a beaker from the shelf and started to fill it with water. She stayed standing by the door.

"You said you wanted to show me something." She was getting impatient. What exactly did she have to cross the room to see? "You can show me from over there."

"If you don't see it up close, you won't believe me," he said, holding the full beaker and turning off the sink. "Now, just come over here."

"I think I can see fine from here."

"Why are you so stubborn?"

"Why are you so pushy?" The longer she stood there, the more she started to think this was a bad idea. "Just show me whatever you want to show me!"

"Not until you get a bit closer." He had that smirk on his face that made her wish she hadn't come in the first place. The feeling of foreboding in her gut got worse and she started to tap her foot incessantly.

"Look, either show me whatever you want to show me or I'm going to class." She took a preporatory step backwards. Jonah's smirk fell. For the first time, Jonah seemed to lose his control over the room. Good. He needed a touch of reality as far as she was concerned. He swilled the contents of the beaker thoughtfully then looked down into it. He smiled. Why was he smiling? He looked up at her. _What the heck did he have to smile about?_

"I wonder," he said as he continued to move the water around in the beaker, "how well they clean these beakers out..." Claire raised an eyebrow. Wait... what? "Could have had just about anything in it. Poisonous. Toxic. Lethal."

That's it. She was already five minutes late and she was not going to waste time talking about how clean the beakers were. "I'm sure there was. Now, if you don't mind, which I don't care if you do, I'm headed to - "

"If you leave I'll drink the water from this beaker," he said without hesitation, the smile on his face growing. He could not be serious. Still, he had a look in his eye that most people didn't, a determination to do what he said he was going to do. She tapped her foot impatiently, the only outlet of her frustration. This was crazy! He wasn't going to drink water from some random beaker.

"You can risk your life if you want to. I'm leaving." She took a few steps toward the door and he, simultaneously, raised the beaker to his mouth. "Jonah..." She couldn't take her eyes off of him. She took another step and he tipped the beaker closer. "Jonah, stop!"

"All you have to do is walk over here." What was wrong with him? Did he have a death wish or something? She stared intently, biting her lip.

"...I have to go," she said, turning away and reaching for the doorknob.

"So be it." And he tipped the beaker to his lips. She turned around quickly, horrified. Rushing over to him, she grabbed the beaker from him only to find that it was... cold. She looked inside and all of the water was gone. All of it had turned to –

"Ice," she said in disbelief. That was impossible. It was water just a few seconds ago until he... She looked up at him and he grinned.

"What?" he said, looking as though he was ready to laugh. "Did you think you and West were the only special people in Coasta Verde?" This was what he wanted to show her? He could turn things to ice? There was only one thing she could think of doing at a time like this...

-x-

**_Jonah Parrish_**

Claire put down the beaker, looked him straight in the eyes... and punched him in the arm.

"Ow! Hey!" Jonah rubbed the spot gingerly. "What was that for?"

"You couldn't just tell me. No," she said, bitterly, "you had to say you're going to drink from a dirty beaker to _show_ me what a jerk you are. Well, thanks." Claire turned away and walked toward the door. His mouth hung open. He finally shows someone what he can do and they act like he offended them.

"But I wasn't lying." She turned around just before she got to the door.

"What?" she said.

"I didn't lie. West attacked me. Came up behind me and carried me into the air. We fell and, if it wasn't for me, he would have been hurt a lot more than he was." Not _exactly_ true, but it was what he wanted her to know. She continued to stare at him, looking unsure. He shrugged. "I figured if I told you that before... you wouldn't believe me."

"...I still don't."

"Why not?!"

"Because he said he didn't." But even as she said it, he could tell her resolve was crumbling. She wanted to believe it, he could tell, but she couldn't. "And I trust him a heck of a lot more than I trust you."

"But you still trust me?" he said with a small smirk. She didn't answer. Instead, she exited the room and shut the door loudly behind her. He sighed. So, the bottom feeder lied to her. Then again, what do you expect a bottom feeder to do?

**_Las Vegas, NV  
Three Months Into The Future  
Hiro Nakamura_**

She led him back downstairs into the sea of slot machines. The Haitian followed closely behind. His eyes and, Hiro assumed, his concentration stayed on Hiro. They crossed an open section that led from one building to another, windows on either side that covered the walls from floor to ceiling. On one side was the desolated street that led to the rest of the Strip; on the other a small courtyard with flamboyant patio furniture. Sitting at a few of the tables, statues that used to be people were still there. People frozen in time. Hiro cringed and tried not to look.

In the next building a large central octagon station that used to be a ticket booth stood with two people inside. One was leaning over bored and the other stood stiff, a drone. The woman walked right up to them, Hiro staying a few steps behind.

"He's waiting," the man in the booth said, "They all are."

"All of them?"

"Yep. Got a full house in there. And all over this guy." He didn't care to even look at Hiro. "To tell the truth, I'm not sure if this is the happiest or angriest I've ever seen the Leader." A quick glance at Hiro. "That him?" She nodded. The man in the booth shrugged. "Kinda dorky looking guy, ain't he?" Hiro took an aggressive step forward, but the woman once again held out her hand in warning.

"Inside," she said and started toward a pair of double doors. Hiro grudgingly followed as the man in the booth gave him a sarcastic salute. She opened a door for him and he started inside, followed by the Haitian. Immediately, he noticed that she wasn't entering.

"Why aren't you - ?"

"We only come when he says to come. The Leader only wants you." She gave him one last glance and shut the door, encasing the room in darkness. Hiro took a deep breath and started walking.

He was in a theater and nearly every seat was filled. It was dark and he couldn't see who these people were but he could tell immediately what they were. More drones, people without choice or free will. He was easily outnumbered and probably couldn't run if he wanted to. Walking down the aisle, the loudest sound seemed to be his footsteps and the room seemed surprisingly warm compared to the rest of the building. There were steps leading up to a bright lit stage set up with a throne in the center and white columns in each corner. Hiro walked up to the stage and took cautious steps forward. The drones were silent and still, but where was the Leader?

"Where is he?" he called out to them. They stayed stationary. "Where is the Leader?" Still no reply. "_Where is he?_"

"Patience..." A voice came from the side of the stage and Hiro turned, eyes wide. "...Carp. I knew you'd be eager to see me, but demanding as well? It doesn't suit you."

No... No this couldn't be. He stepped forward from out of the shadows, but Hiro couldn't believe his eyes. He buried him! He buried him so that no one would have to deal with him again! And yet... here he was, standing before him in a crisp suit with a satisfied grin on his face.

"Kensei?" He was surprised he could muster that much. Adam Monroe stepped forward, rubbing his hands together.

"I believe that's 'The Leader' to you, now, isn't it?" Hiro took a step backward without meaning to. "Now, come on, carp. You really didn't think that little prison of yours would keep me forever, did you?"

"It was meant to keep the world safe," Hiro said, pointing out at the audience. "Safe from things like this. How did you..?"

"Another story for another time, Hiro," Adam said, wagging a finger at him. "Then again, time for you is quite relative... Grab him." Without warning, Hiro was restrained by two drones who walked up behind him. He struggled, but the hands had a firm grip on him. "Bring it out." Two more people walked out, but they weren't drones. One was a man in a silver jacket who rolled an IV on-stage toward the throne. The other was a younger woman with dark green hair drawn up into a disordered bun who held a vial with a dark blue liquid in it. When she looked at Hiro she smiled before attatching the vial to a needle-gun and handing it to the man in the silver jacket.

"What are you doing?" Hiro finally asked.

"Patience..." Adam said again. "It will all be over soon."

"Why are you doing this? What do you have to gain from taking away people's free will?"

"I can show the world that all it takes is one brave decision to make the world a better place. My decision. Sit him down." The two holding Hiro forced him over to the throne, sitting him down and holding him there. The man in the silver jacket came closer with the needle. Hiro couldn't let this happen. He had to keep him talking. At least enough to distract him.

"Why me?" Hiro asked. "Why would you want to take away my free will before you kill me?"

"Kill you?" Adam laughed. "No, I don't want to kill you... I've already done that."

"...What?" He... He was...

"I know that you have come from the past, Hiro." Adam's eyes were alight as he smiled. "And I know that the only reason you are here is because you sent yourself a warning. Well, that warning... was pointless. You failed to change anything. And, now, I'm going to have a little fun with the man who took my love away."

"I didn't mean to!"

"It doesn't matter!" Adam was no longer smiling. His eyes glittered with menace. Hiro sat in fear as the man with the needle came closer. "You brought this on yourself. I told you I would get my revenge... one way or another."

Hiro's breathing became shallow. The man with the needle was standing next to him, smirking. The woman with the green hair stood off to the side, a glint of mystery in her eyes. And Adam stood three feet away, waiting for the injection to commence. Hiro was out of time. He had to get out of here. He squinted his eyes, hoping, praying that his ability would work now when he needed it most. Concentrating as hard as he could, he tried to go back three months. He had to go back before it was too late.

"Very useful," Adam said, causing Hiro to look up, "that Haitian man. Especially for those few _powerful_ people that would have given me _so _much trouble." He had forgotten. The Haitian was still focusing on him and as long as he was around Hiro was helpless. "Face it, carp. These are your last moments of freedom." Adam came a few steps closer, kneeling down to head level with Hiro. "And I can't wait to hurt you as much as you've hurt me. Ready?"

The man in the silver jacket nodded. "Ready when you are." Adam smiled, getting up from his kneeling position and turning to the crowd of drones in the audience.

"People of Las Vegas," he said, spreading his arms wide, "Your Leader has found another person willing to sacrifice themself for the cause of a better world! A new age is arising - a perfect world! And we will be the beginning of it!"

"You're wrong!" Hiro shouted in Japanese. He may have run out of time... but he wasn't going down easy. "You cannot make a perfect world by taking it away from everyone else!"

"I think I know much more on the subject than you do, carp," Adam replied. "I have lived on this Earth for nearly four hundred years. I know what needs to be done. I can make this world better and you know it!"

"You cannot make it better because there is no such thing as a perfect world!" Hiro shouted. If there was one thing his father had taught him, it was to do what was necessary sometimes was to know when to stop. Adam had to be stopped before he ruined the world he tried to save. "Even you must realize this."

Adam stared at him intently. "It is true. There is no such thing." Finally, he was talking sense. "But there will be before I'm through."

"No!"

"Prepare to inject." The man with the needle positioned it accordingly.

"Where?" the man asked.

"The neck." The needle was positioned beside Hiro's neck. "One drop, Hiro. That's all it takes."

"You can't do this!"

"I can and I am. Get ready!" Hiro stared him in the eyes. "And..." _BANG!_ Adam tripped over the ordering word. His breathing went shallow a moment. "What was that?" he asked.

"Adam..." the man in the silver jacket said, lowering the needle, "Your shirt." Adam looked down and saw that his white shirt had a red hole in it. He was bleeding.

"Someone shot me," he said, a mix of surprise and confusion on his face. "Hey! Who shot me?"

"I did," said an accent from the crowd. Adam turned as a man stood up near the front row. Hiro grinned, relief spreading across his face. Claude stepped out of the crowd, gun raised and eyes locked on Adam. "And I hope it hurts like hell."

But Adam was smiling now. "It did. ...Grab him." Before he knew it, the two drones holding Hiro ran toward Claude. Hiro, taking advantage of who they focused on, tripped one of them up. He fired off two shots, taking down the first one easily, and fired another at the downed drone. Hiro ran up to join Claude as he ran on stage, gun still poised.

"Couldn't have started that a few minutes ago?" Hiro asked. Claude shrugged.

"Thought you might have appealed to him with that pleasant conversation in Japanese," Claude said as they both backed away. "He _really_ hates you, though."

"You know Japanese?"

"We already had this conversation a week ago and I don't think this is the right time to have it again." Hiro nodded. "Now, why isn't he dead yet?"

"He can... regenerate." Claude looked at him, bewildered, and Hiro grimaced.

"Of all the things you could do, you pissed off an invulnerable foe." Claude shook his head, holding in his anger as the three on stage started to come toward them. "Here's a thought, Hiro, now would be a great time to go back to three months ago!"

"I can't. The Haitian." Hiro pointed to the side of the stage. Claude raised the gun, but Hiro grabbed his arm. "Don't kill him!" Claude looked at him wildly as the others continued to move in. Hiro shook his head. It was a crazy decision, but something told him to make it. Claude bit down hard.

"Bloody time traveler." _BANG!_ The Haitian fell to the ground, holding his leg and gasping in large breaths. "Now, go!" He shoved Hiro behind him and held the gun up decisively.

**Adaptation is human nature, but there is another option... extinction.**

"Get them! All of you - _get them!_" Every single person in their seats began to rise, heading for the stage. They were blocked in. Adam closed in on stage and the masses closed in from behind.

Claude turned. "Go!"

"Come with me!"

"_Just do it already!_"

**If anything happened to our world, would we be able to endure? Or would we fall, piece by piece, person by person?**

Hiro concentrated hard on three months back. He'd seen so much and yet he had so much left to do. He gave one last glance around him - and saw the throne from the stage flying through the air toward them!

"LOOK OUT!" Claude turned back around, gun pointed. It was too late.

_WOOSH!_

-x-

**The world is a much colder, darker place than what we imagine and, as climates change, it will only get colder.**

_Gasp!_

He felt air fill his lungs again. Where was he? He prayed silently in the dark world around him that he had moved, that something had happened... but no. He hadn't moved, just woken again from an endless nightmare.

Here lies Adam Monroe, buried by the traitor Hiro Nakamura and doomed to live and die for all eternity. No one to mourn him and no one to realize that he wasn't dead yet... again.

_Thump._ There went the pounding in his head again, the one sign he'd grown fond of in his wooden prison. He'd hear the thumps in his head, then he'd lose consciousness, suffocate, and reawaken minutes later. It was a bit soon considering he usually had a few hours or so between each death but he supposed there wasn't much air to use now. Only his own breath filling the casket and the soil around it.

He imagined that the virus had been released. Not like he had much else to do. Whether or not The Company was controlling the situation, he assumed he had caused enough trouble to last them as long as he was imprisoned. And if the virus wasn't released... Well, he had time to think on that as well. Even if the virus strain had been contained, he was sure something was keeping The Company busy. Something always did.

**Change will happen. No matter what we hope for, change happens.**

_Thump! _Louder this time. He held his head in his hands, rubbing at his temples. He'd died too many times to be afraid of death, but the circumstances never pleased him. He thought on how he had gone wrong, why Hiro was so determined. He knew it was partially his fault, but after all these years he'd forgotten. How could he have been so foolish to underestimate Hiro Nakamura, especially after killing his father.

Adam smirked. It was the one pleasant thought he'd aquired from this situation. He had nearly completed killing the other founders and the sweetest revenge he could have had thus far succeeded. Kaito Nakamura was dead and he had been the killer. Not exactly a morally right thought, but a triumph nonetheless.

_THUMP!_ It had never been that loud before. It couldn't be coming from his head. And the more he thought about it, the wider his smile became.

**Will we know when this change occurs? Has it already begun? Or is it only just the beginning...**

The sound of sifting dirt could have been the song of angels descending upon him. He folded his arms in front of him and waited. No prison was too secure. Just as The Company had learned, Hiro would learn only too well. _THUNK!!_

Metal hit wood and the roof of Adam's wooden prison was pierced. A shovel was removed and, for the first time in days, he saw light through the crack in the casket. Moments later the top was flung open and a figure above him held out a hand. He took it and was pulled up and out of the casket. It was night, but the moonlight sustained a feeling of hope that he had not felt since days before. He looked into the face of his savior... and his face went pale.

"...Thomas?" he said, the slightest bit of fright and defiance in his voice.

_CLUNK!_ Adam fell into the dirt wall behind him, knocked unconscious by the very shovel that helped him out. The figure stood before him a moment, staring at his helplessness. Then, with a heft of strength, he threw Adam over his shoulder and started to climb out of the grave.

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	5. Necessary Precautions

_**Unknown Location  
****Adam Monroe**_

"Ow!" He awoke quickly, the pain in his jaw a sharp indicator of his current situation. He tried to move, but couldn't. His arms were tied up behind him and the room around him was dark except for a row of lights he sat in. Also, he wasn't alone.

"Damn, that felt good," a voice in front of him said. He looked up to find a well-built man in a colorful Hawaiian shirt and gray khakis rubbing his knuckles methodically. The man who had knocked him out the night before. And his face did seem familiar, but not as familiar as it seemed yesterday.

"You're not Thomas..." Adam said, feeling his jaw begin to heal itself. The man in front of him smiled.

"You got that right," he said, leaning forward. "I'm his son, Paul. Remember me?"

"Paul? Paul Markus?" This was a surprise. He hadn't seen Paul since he was a kid. He also never expected to see him again, considering.

"So you remember?" Paul sneered. "Do you remember how you betrayed my father before you disappeared? How you left my family with next to nothing?"

"...He deserved it." Adam's head snapped to the side, another punch to the jaw.

"He was a good man!"

"He got greedy." _Punch!_ Is this all this guy did? Did he blame Adam for becoming a thug and want revenge? Whatever the cause, all this punching had to stop. "Not that this isn't fun, but is there some reason you dug me up other than being a punching bag?" Paul smirked, finally leaning back.

"Of course there's a reason," he said, "Do you really think I'd ever force myself to see you again if I had the choice? No, you're exactly what I'm looking for... But, first, while we're here.." _Punch!_ Paul shook his hand again, trying to get the pain to wear off.

"Do whatever you want. I don't care." Adam stood firm, his jaw close to breaking. Whatever this man had against him would heal itself with time. That's how it always worked.

"Oh, I will," Paul said, smirking wider. "Then again, I know that you can heal." Adam's resolve faltered a moment. "Oh, yeah. I know. And that's the exact fact about you that makes you so valuable to me." He... He knew? And what did he want with him? Paul leaned forward once again, his face inches from Adam's and eyes staring straight into his. "So sit back, relax and take the beating you deserve. ...You'll live."

_PUNCH!_

_**Outside Tucson, Arizona  
****Bil****ly Baker and James Silverton**_

The heat was scorching and the car acted like it didn't want to fill up. They were breaking into their personal funds already for this impromptu trip, but it was better than what they imagined the alternative was. Billy leaned against the gas pump, trying to shade himself while the nozzle sat on automatic.

"Hey, you done yet?" Jay called from the driver's seat. Impatient as ever. Billy chose not to yell back, shaking his head. He had already noticed how Jay despised what they were doing, but both of them knew it was for their own good. _Clink_. He pulled the nozzle out and reset it. Making sure everything was closed he headed back into the car. Jay sat next to him with a surprising smirk on his face.

"So?"

"So, the tank's full. Let's go."

"No, I meant..." He nodded towards the convenience store area in front of them where they had already paid for gas. Billy looked at it and grimaced.

"I don't know, man..." he said, turning back. Jay was smiling. "It doesn't seem like we should be doing this while we're technically 'on-the-run'."

"Oh, come on! There's nobody here!"

"Jay, let's just go."

"It's not like we're coming back here anytime soon..."

"Jay." He tried to make it sound final, even with the uncertainty.

"We need the money." Billy felt a twinge in his gut. It was true. They did need the money. Jay kept looking at him with those determined eyes of his. He was going to keep pressing him about it until he caved anyway...

"...Okay," Billy finally said and Jay punched him on the arm in agreement.

"Excellent!" Billy shrugged. They did need the money after all and they wouldn't be staying here long. He stepped out of the car, closing the door behind him and looking through the window. "You know where to find me." Jay winked and started up the car, pulling out of the gas station and down the highway.

Somewhere in Arizona and they were still up to their old deeds. Was it worth it? He didn't know. Still, he pulled the mask out of his windbreaker pocket and forced it on. At the very least, they were miles away from whoever this Burbank character was by now. They didn't have to worry about him anymore. He took a deep breath and vanished in a blur as he rushed in. Billy Baker strikes again.

-x-

Thirty minutes later, Burbank walked the streets of Austin, TX, one ear glued to a cell phone and the other listening to a battery-powered radio. The person on the other side of the line didn't seem pleased.

"You let him get away?" buzzed through the phone in a monotone, computerized voice. "Naughty, naughty."

"A minor set-back," Burbank said, scouting the streets for a restaurant for lunch. Even he got hungry, especially chasing a kid that age. "I'll get him. Just waiting for him to slip up." He tapped his right ear with the earphone in it. It was a clever thing he'd figured out years ago that came in handy with cases like this. "As long as I get paid for my services, I'm perfectly fine following him wherever he goes."

"You'll be paid when we have him in custody, Mr. Burbank."

He chuckled gutterally. "Good." He put the phone away and scanned the intersection he stood at. Across the street, there looked like a good enough Italian place to stop and eat. He started to cross, but stopped unexpectedly. He started to hear a metallic whine going through his right ear. Could it be? Could they not go a day without committing another robbery? This was too easy. He smiled without realizing a car was coming toward him!

"Hey! Watch out!" A passing stranger pointed. Turning quickly, he held out a hand and the car stopped completely. The driver was thrust forward, the airbags spouting out like a small explosion. It was less than a foot away from him. The passerby looked amazed even though others walking by didn't seem to notice. "You... How did you do that?"

Burbank turned to look at him, his face serious... but he smirked. He walked over to the teenager, obviously excited and slightly scared, and put a hand on his shoulder. He moved him near a parked car, smiled a bit, and said, "How? The same way I did this." And he squeezed the young man's shoulder slightly.

The kid went rigid a moment, his eyes staring forward suddenly like he'd been struck by lightning. Then, he crumpled but Burbank moved him to lay against the parked car, looking like he had fallen asleep. "There we go..." He walked away, leaving him there. The kid might remember him, he might not. It didn't matter. He had more pressing matters to attend to. Taking out his cell phone again, he redialed the last number. He had one last thing to report.

"Yes?" the monotone voice asked.

"Told you I'd find him," he said, a smile creeping onto his face. "And you were worried."

"Are you close?"

"No, but I can guarentee capture within the week."

"What makes you so sure of yourself?" the voice asked and his smile grew wider.

"A precaution I'm prepared to take." His eyes gazed over to the restaurant once again and his stomach grumbled. He started to walk towards it and he watched out for traffic this time.

"As long as you bring him in... do what's necessary."

"Don't worry," Burbank said, entering the Italian restaurant and letting the smell of noodles and sauce fill his nostrils heartily. "He can run as much as he wants to, but I will... catch him. Over and out." Phone stuffed back into an inside pocket of his trenchcoat, he headed for the hostess podium. A good meal, then the job. Sounded like a good day to him.

**_Hartsdale, NY  
_**_**Primatech Research  
****Mohinder Suresh and Bob Bishop**_

Bathed in blue light, Mohinder stared at the readings on the data screen to his right. He was standing in a private laboratory of the Company five floors below the building. He hardly wanted to say that this area was untouchable, but it was secure. His work over the past few days had surprised and excited him in ways he hadn't imagined. He almost wondered what the extent of the Company ingenuity was, but he knew better than to ask. Focus. He had to focus on the task at hand.

Lying before him on the metallic silver table was the unconscious form of Maury Parkman and, after a few days research, he knew much more about him than he ever thought he would. Probably more than Matt knew, but of course he couldn't tell him. He was constantly watched and chaperoned. In fact, just behind him Bob watched him meticulously as he read over each chart and did every test that he deemed needed. It was a bit more constraining than before, Bob knowing that he had been previously planning on taking down the Company. He felt like he wasn't trusted and, maybe, it was for good reason.

Passing by the monitor to go check another, large black lettering appeared on the screen he passed.

**Chapter Five  
****Necessary Precautions**

"Well," Mohinder finally said aloud after looking over the readings again. "You were right. He is a prime specimen for it."

"He is our only specimen," Bob lamented, eyes still beadily glued to Mohinder's back. "Can you ensure that it will work?" Mohinder grimaced. He didn't want to tell Bob the truth, but he knew it was the only thing that Bob would accept.

"No," he said, grabbing a clipboard from the counter to his left. "Not without a few more tests."

"Stalling," Bob said, nudging his glasses up his nose, "will not help you, Dr. Suresh. How long do we have before the first official test?" He could feel Bob's piercing stare going through the back of his head.

He hesitated a moment, then, "It can start immediately, if you like." Bob clapped his hands together, as though the decision had been made. "But I don't know what it will do to him. He is still, by all counts, trapped inside of his own mind. There may be adverse side effects that - "

"Have the test ready by tomorrow." Bob had a final tone in his voice, starting to move towards the door to the room.

"Complications could arise. I don't know if we have the facilities to - "

"I'm sure you'll prepare all of the necessary precautions." Bob didn't even turn around to look at him.

"He could die." Mohinder's final plea came as Bob was reaching for the door. He stopped momentarily, only to turn around and give Mohinder a smile.

"We can take that chance," he said, an angered glance at Maury's still form on the table. Without another word, he left the room and closed the door behind him. Blinking furiously, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the change in light from blue to bright-white. After a moment, he pressed a few numbers into the keypad by the door and a hissing emitted from within the door itself.

Bob started toward the elevator at the end of the hallway and his cell phone began to ring. "Hello? Yes?" He listened a moment and smiled. "That's wonderful. I'm sure his mother will be pleased that he arrived safely." He nodded briefly. "Yes, that's right. His room will be on the second floor. Don't worry. We'll take good care of Nathan Petrelli." He hung up the phone and prepared to call Angela. If there was one thing she would want to hear about, it's the safety of her children.

_**Somewhere in North Carolina  
****Noah Bennett and Elle Bishop**_

A small crowd had gathered the day before when the dark blue station wagon had been found on the side of the highway. Police had run a background check on the man inside only to find that he was a small-time loan shark who had lived in Richmond, Virginia for the past few months. The cause of death was strange, but nobody questioned that it must have been of accidental or suicidal cause. His body had been removed for autopsy and the crowd (and police) dispersed. Now, just a row of police tape connected by traffic cones stood between Noah and Sylar's latest victim.

"Are we sure it was him?" Elle asked, hanging out of the passenger door to their car and folding her arms in front of her. Her arm slingless, she had grown the tendency to use it a bit too often just to show how mobile she was. Noah sighed.

"How else do you explain a man showing up dead in New Jersey and his car going all the way to North Carolina?" Bennett remembered well coming across the horrible sight of the man dead on the Jersey turnpike. Glasses askew and contorted in the worst way against a tree, he hardly wanted to remember it.

"A car jacker who's on the run," Elle replied.

"Exactly." He continued to survey the scene, knowing he couldn't get much more information out of it. The police had taken care of that.

"Why is he resorting to stealing cars? Doesn't seem like him." He met eyes with Elle. Had to give her credit, she was quite knowledgeable in the field.

"I think," he said, starting to walk around the tape to examine the car, "that he may not have fully revived yet. He had so many different strands of DNA in him that they all didn't heal at once when he injected himself with Claire's blood. He's growing stronger though."

"So let's go! We already have an idea where he's headed." Elle tapped a foot incessantly.

"He hasn't left the area yet." Elle raised an eyebrow, casting a cautious glance around her.

"How do you know?"

"He's got at least a half-a-day ahead of us," Noah said, starting to head back to the car. "If he had moved on, we'd hear about it."

"Or he's already moved on and we're waiting here for no reason when we could be catching him."

"Coming from the girl who _almost_ caught him that _almost_ makes sense." Elle whipped out a hand that shone electric blue a few inches from Noah's chest, sparking wildly. He stood stoic, looking down his nose at her. After a moment, she let her hand relax and relinquished it to her former stance.

"So where is he now, _expert_?"

"Waiting for his next move," he said, rounding the car to enter the driver's seat. "Just like us." Elle rolled her eyes and sat back down, closing the passenger door.

"Waiting... Yeah, waiting doesn't seem so Sylarish." She talked with her hands and it was getting annoying. "Why is he waiting?"

"Because he knows we're following him," Noah said. "It's not rocket science, Elle. And fumbling around in the dark won't help us find him." She gritted her teeth, trying not to snap at him. Maybe he overestimated her after all.

"I know that," she said, keeping her eyes on the dashboard. "But it's better to do something than to sit here while he's out there." If that's the way she wanted it, he'd let her have it.

"And where do you suggest we look?"

"Where we know he'll be," she said, her eyes snapping to meet his.

"And do what when we get there?"

"I don't know! Just..." And she stopped, glaring fiercely while he glanced calmly back.

"Tell me something, Elle." Noah took off his glasses to clean them with the edge of his shirt. "We know that Sylar stole a car in New Jersey and he stole a passenger in Virginia. He had to have met the passenger on the way here. The car is here and the passenger is dead." He leaned in towards her. "...Where is the passenger's car?" Elle hesitated...

_Boom!_ Miles down the highway in front of them, an explosion ripped across where an exit once was. Car parts were flung across the street causing more than a few vehicles to skid to a halt. Noah smiled, putting his glasses back on.

"Shall we?" he said. Elle shrugged, not looking at him. He revved up the car and started off, knowing their next clue had just shown itself.

-x-

He watched carefully, cautiously through the trees as the car pulled off down the road. His hearing had returned and he heard everything they had said in the car from a mile into the woods. Frowning, he knew they were close, the closest of the agents the Company had sent to find him. He grabbed at a loose branch angrily and it froze in response. It snapped easily and shattered to the mossy floor. His powers were returning, but not quick enough. He still had a long way to go.

He turned around, starting to head through the trees to make his way on foot. That Bennett man had caught him before, but he wouldn't now. No, now he had all the information he needed to make it there undetected. If they really knew where he was going, he'd look forward to seeing them there. Another step closer to the Company and all he had to do was make his way to Odessa quietly.

He smiled. If anything, he'd enjoy taking that electric ability from the woman in the passenger's seat. She was too impatient to keep it, too beautiful to live.

_**Albany, NY  
****Maya Herrera**_

It was a large empty air strip that the Company owned but hadn't used in years. A mix of cement and grass cascaded out in a long line from Maya's feet and extended farther than she could see. It still looked usable, but also seemed to hold memories that many didn't want to return to. Standing outside of the brick building, accompanied by four guards directly from the Hartsdale facility, she felt safe and unsafe at the same time. They told her it would be fine to use her ability here, but she wasn't so sure. She'd never been sure about the range of her ability or who she might hurt in the process. She was afraid, she admitted it, but if the Company was sure she believed them. She had to.

"Come on, Ms. Herrera," one of the guards said with a grin as a golf cart pulled up. He got inside and held out a hand. He had an accent, European or something filtered with New York, but she couldn't place it and he hadn't left her alone since they left the facility. She hesitated, then took his hand and sat inside. Immediately, the golf cart took off.

"We've secured the area," he said, a hand pointing out of the moving vehicle. "The only people within a five mile radius is us and we've been assured your ability can't go much farther than that. I'm Antonio, by the way." He held out a hand, but she only gave him a small smile. He raised an eyebrow, letting his hand down, and turned to the front. She just wanted to get this over with.

They were driven to the middle of the air strip, browning untidy grass beneath their feet and a line of guards waiting for them. Once they left the golf cart, it took off back for the building. Maya watched it go, unsure.

"Don't worry, Maya," Antonio said. "We've got it all covered. I can call you Maya, right?" He added the last comment with a smirk. Maya shrugged.

"Yes."

"Great. Now, the reason we're here is that your ability is quite unique." He began to pace back and forth in front of her, relaying all the information he'd been given. "The Company normally comes across people who have no idea the potential their ability possesses, but usually they can control it. Yours, as I'm told, seems to trigger only on emotion but it's really instinct, the whole fight or flight thing. When you're upset - _boom_ - it hits. But we're here to tell you that you're much more than that."

"How do you mean?"

"Like being able to use your ability on command and on a specific person."

Maya shook her head. "No, I don't think I can - " He stopped, staring directly at her.

"You can. We know you can." His eyes met hers, twinkling. She turned away. He was charming, yes, but now wasn't the time. "And that's why we've set this up." He pointed out to the row of guards ahead. "You will be attempting to use your ability on one person in this line on command."

"But I can't without - !"

"We know, Maya. We also know that you couldn't stop using your ability until a certain Gabriel Gray forced you to face it." Bad memories she didn't want to face.

"I should have killed him," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"But you didn't. You stopped yourself and The Company believes that you can do more. So let's begin." He pointed at the person second left in the group of six. "You will focus on that guard and make only her affected by your ability."

"I can't use my ability unless I am provoked!" Maya said to him. He smiled.

"That's why all six of them will be shooting at you." Maya's jaw dropped and Antonio came up to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You'll be fine... as long as you use your ability." He moved his hand to her face, but she turned away. This was crazy. They were all crazy. Antonio backed away from her and she stared forward at the row of gun-laden guards.

"Ready?" All of the guards took a step forward at once. This was real. She would have to use her ability or they would make her use it. She concentrated hard, trying to fight the nervousness within her, but nothing came out. No black tears, no curse.

"Aim." All guns raised to the same point, all at her. Oh no. It wasn't going to happen. They were going to shoot and she wasn't going to... Then, she felt it. Like a boiling in the pit of her stomach that started to rise, but it wasn't rising fast enough. They were going to shoot before it happened. Still rising. It would be too late. Still rising.

"Fire!" _BANG! BANG!_ The bullets went whizzing past her. Two of the guns went off but the rest never made it. Tears started to pour from their eyes and all six guards began to sink to their knees.

"Maya!" She turned and Antonio was reaching toward her from his knees, pained. Everyone was dying. She had to stop before it was too late. Deep breath. _Gaaasssppp!_ Her tears began to dry and the tears on all of the guards dried with them. It was over and all she had done was what she knew she could do. She couldn't call it out on command. She couldn't focus it. She'd failed. Antonio rose to his feet slowly and looked up at her. He smiled.

"Now was that so hard?" he said, his breathing short. Maya looked at him strangely. He looked shaken, but no more than he expected to be. He cleared his throat and sighed. "So are you ready to try again?" Her eyes widened and she was speechless.

"What?!" she finally said. "You want to go through that again?"

"It doesn't have to do with what I want," he said. "It's about making you better at what you do."

"But it could kill you. Aren't you afraid that you will die?"

"I'm more afraid that by the time we finish you won't want to go to dinner with me." Maya stopped and really looked at him for a moment. He was crazy but he actually wanted to help. The Company wanted to help her. "So are you ready?" She swallowed her fears a moment and nodded. The line of six were standing again. "Then, let's try again."

_**New Orleans, LA  
****Micah Sanders and Monica Dawson**_

He was too ashamed to look up from the ground as Monica led him inside, the day's mail in her hands. She kept giving him looks of disappointment and her Burger Bonanza apron didn't soften the blow. "We're here, Nana," she called out toward the kitchen. Nana Dawson came into the living room as Micah sat down and he only felt worse. Her stare pierced him like his mother's used to and the deep hole forming in his stomach grew deeper.

"Well, lookee here at Mr. Big Man," Nana said, sitting in her armchair without relinquishing her stare. Monica crossed her arms and stood next to it. "Go on. Make an excuse. I'm waiting." For such a genius, his mind seemed blanker after she confronted him. "If I told Damon once, I told him a hundred times that fighting don't solve anything. That boy got more fight than ambition sometimes, but I never expected it from you. That's not how we settle things in this house, hear?" Micah looked up at them both, not sure what to say.

"I'm sorry," Micah said. It was a start. Monica shook her head and headed toward the kitchen, unable to just stand there any longer. Nana didn't smile or frown, she just stared.

"Sorry won't get you un-sent home from school," Nana said. "But I suppose it'll do for now." Micah sighed, a small smile forming on his face without his meaning to. "Oh, don't think I'm done yet. You're grounded for two weeks. No video games and none of that Internet thing. Understood?"

Whatever smile he had before fell. "Understood."

"Good. Now, you can help me fold the laundry. Lord knows I need a rest. Go on." She tipped her head toward the sliding double-doors off the hallway and Micah got up immediately. When he passed the entrance to the kitchen, Monica was rifling through the mail, frowning.

"I'm sorry, Monica," he said as he passed. She looked up and sighed.

"It's okay, Micah. Now, go on. Do what Nana said."

One of the sliding doors was already open and a basket lay in front of the dryer. He grabbed a few things from the top of the machine and started folding. From the kitchen he could hear Nana and Monica talking.

"Ain't you heading back to work, honey?" Nana said, turning up the television. Monica didn't answer immediately.

"Have you seen this?" Monica asked. Something was passed between them, but Micah couldn't tell what. He folded the shirt in his hands slower, trying to hear every word. "Have one of these come before?"

"Don't pay it no mind. We'll make it through," Nana said with a sigh.

"It's a notice of foreclosure, Nana. They want to take the house from us. I don't think - "

"Every storm passes, child. We know that better than most." Monica was quiet and Micah stopped a moment. "Now, go on. Back to work. Don't give it one more second of thought." There was a shuffling and Monica exited the kitchen. Quickly, Micah returned to folding clothes, but he knew that Monica's gaze fell on him immediately. Without a word, she headed for the door and left.

_**Tucson, Arizona  
****Billy Baker and James Silverton**_

They pulled the convertible into the gravel driveway, the only one on the street, and stepped out. It was a decent neighborhood with lawns that stretched a bit farther than what Billy was used to, but he supposed that's how things were done in Arizona. The heat had waned a few degrees as the sun slowly descended for the day, but they were still sweating like pigs. Jay led Billy up the drive toward the front door of the one-story yellow-sided building and waited.

"You sure they're going to let us stay here?" Billy asked. He'd never met these people before but Jay seemed to trust them without question.

"Of course! They're family, my family, and since I don't have much of it we take care of our own." He seemed confident but Billy wasn't sure. "Besides, we'll be here a few days, tops. Just need to get the heat off of us while this Burbank guy is around. He'll give up. We move back. What's the worst that could happen?"

Billy shrugged. "At least they know we're coming," he said, giving a nonchalant look at their house. Jay stayed silent and rang the doorbell again. A twinge of foreboding caught Billy's brain. "They do know we're coming, right?" Jay couldn't meet eyes with him and rang the doorbell again. Oh no...

The door opened and a woman who looked their age answered the door. She was wearing a gray tank top, blue jean shorts and what looked like thick cloth yellow gloves. She stared from one face to another, raised an eyebrow... and punched Jay square in the jaw. Jay fell to the dry grass, holding his jaw in pain. She stepped forward, knelt down next to him and said, "Told you I'd get you back."

"An elephant never forgets," Jay said. She reared back a fist and Jay flinched. Billy watched on in awe. Finally, she shook her head, smiling, and held out a hand to pull Jay up.

"You're lucky you got company," she said as he got to his feet.

"You're lucky you're a girl," he said. She reared back again and Jay ducked, crouch-walking for the front door and heading inside. She sighed and followed him, shouting, "Hey Uncle Toney! Guess who's here?" She turned to look at Billy, who was still standing in place, and smiled. "You comin' in or what?" He smiled, nodded and headed inside.

Rustic was an understatement for their decor; animal heads, exotic guns and flags for the University of New Mexico hung on the walls in proud valor. They didn't have much, but what they had showed their pride for who they were. Jay headed straight for the kitchen to grab a small towel and a handful of ice for his jaw. Billy stood by the door, unsure whether to find a seat in the living room or ask if he could sit. "You could grow roots if you keep standing there like that," she said as she walked past him and took a seat on the couch. He laughed and followed her to sit down.

"I'm Kara," she said, nodding in acknowledgement. "And that wart in the kitchen is my cousin."

"Better a wart than a monster!" Jay called from the kitchen.

"Get everybody some water while you're in there! You're probably grabbing enough ice." She looked back at Billy. "Jay used to live with us after his daddy died and he knows better than to use all of the ice. Now, who are you?"

"I'm..." Billy found himself temporarily speechless. She was... tough and... loud and... beautiful. "I'm... William. William Baker." He hardly believed he had called himself that.

"William?!" Jay was returning from the kitchen with three ice-waters in his hands, setting them down on a scorched coffee table in front of the couch. He sat in the armchair and started gulping down his water. "Since when have you called yourself William?" Oh, great.

"I think it sounds distinguished," Kara said, smirking at Billy. "Still calling yourself 'Jay' because you think it's cooler than 'James', I bet." Jay opened his mouth to protest, but Kara cut him off. "So what brings you round these parts, Mr. William Baker?"

"Uh, well, Jay said we could stay here for a few days. If that's alright with you." He added the last part quickly, almost forgetting they hadn't called in advance.

"He did, did he?" Kara gave an angered glance back towards Jay, but he sipped his water without looking back. "Well, I think - "

"It's out of the question," a voice said coming into the room. A large man, balding, in jeans and a bright orange shirt stepped toward them, scratching what was left of his hair. "Get out of my chair, boy!" Jay jumped up nearly spilling his water on himself out of fright and went to join Kara and Billy on the couch, causing Kara to scoot closer to Billy. He couldn't help but smirk. "What do you want with us, James?" Direct, no pauses.

Jay could hardly speak, so Billy chose to speak for him. "We kind of needed to get away for a while... because..."

"What trouble you got in now, boy?" the man said roughly.

"They just want to stay a few days, Uncle Toney," Kara said, putting a hand on Jay's shoulder.

"I didn't ask you," Uncle Toney said. "Now, what sort of trouble are you in? Only reason you'd come this far from there is if you're in trouble, now spit it out."

"This man," Billy said quickly, "started chasing us like he wanted something. We tried telling the police, but they wouldn't listen." Jay looked at him briefly, but nodded. Yes, it was a lie, but it was close enough to the truth that they may have felt for them. "Honestly, we just were scared. Please, all we need is a place to stay. Just a few days."

Uncle Toney scratched his chin slowly, scowling. "Three days max. That's it, ya hear?"

"Yes, sir," Jay said, nodding fiercely. He gave another glance to Billy, but turned back to the floor. They lied, but they got what they wanted. That's all that mattered. As long as Burbank couldn't find them, they were fine.

_**New Orleans, LA  
****Micah Sanders**_

He flexed his hands, pained and wrinkly after the tiring chore he just finished, and entered his room. Washing dishes after dinner was not a laughing matter, especially for four people. Including pots, pans, utensils and the plates themselves, it was more than enough to keep him busy for half-an-hour. He sat in front of his computer - then remembered he wasn't supposed to use the Internet. Sighing, he turned in his chair just as the door to the room opened.

"What's up, man?" Damon said, grinning. "Didn't know you had it in you. Probably learned from the best - me!" He flicked his shirt out for emphasis. Micah shrugged. "Now, move out the way. I gotta know when the next pay per view is coming out."

"It's my computer," Micah replied.

"It's my room," Damon retorted. Knowing he couldn't use the computer anyway, Micah moved toward his bed by the window as Damon sat down. He grabbed a thick book from under his bed and laid back to read.

"You take down a bully and all you can think of doing is reading?" Damon asked as he browsed a website. "You are one strange dude."

"I like this book," Micah said. "And it's not strange. It's science." Damon rolled his eyes, looking over at the book.

"Activating Evolution," he read from the book's title. "Yeah, sound's like it's really interesting."

"I'm sure wrestling's going to teach you a lot more than this book will." Micah turned back to the book, hoping he made his point. Turning to his bookmark, he started reading the chapter on electrical manipulation.

"Better than a boring book."

"You're boring."

"Yo momma." Micah's eyes narrowed and Damon stopped suddenly as though he only just realized what he just said. "Sorry, dude. I didn't mean..." He trailed off. Micah knew what he meant. He also knew Damon would be smarter if he actually thought about what he said before he said it.

"Hey." Both of them turned. Monica was at the door, peeking in.

"What do you want?" Damon said, screwing up his face. Monica put a hand on her hip.

"I want to talk to Micah," she said.

"Ain't botherin' me."

"Just give us a few minutes, Damon." She gave a tone as though it was his only choice. He jutted his head to the side but left the room, grumbling under his breath. Monica closed the door and, sighing, took a seat on the edge of Micah's bed. "I know why you fought that kid at school. The principal told me before we left this afternoon."

Micah kept his nose in the book, not wanting to look up at her. "It's not fair," he said.

"It isn't a reason to fight anyone you don't like."

"He called me an orphan." Monica stopped, unsure of what to say. Micah knew what she'd say. She'd try to comfort him or tell him the other kid was stupid. But that didn't change how he felt. "Am I an orphan?"

Monica smiled slowly. "No. You have a family. You have us. Unless we don't count for nothin'." She raised an eyebrow and Micah couldn't help but smile a little. "No matter what cruel things other people say, and they will say them whether you like it or not, you can't retaliate. It's what they want. You hear me?" She moved the book from in front of his face and he nodded.

"I heard about the money you need," Micah said. It had been plaguing him ever since he heard it.

"Then you must've heard what Nana said." She sighed, hands on her lap. "We'll make it through. We always do."

"I think I can help, though." He scooted closer to her, lowering his voice. "You know, my power, talking to machines. I can get the money for you."

"No." She didn't even think about it.

"But it's not like I wouldn't pay the money back. We'd only need it to pay for - "

"I said no, Micah. We don't need the money that badly."

"I... I'm just trying to help." His head sagged, but Monica lifted it back up with an outstretched hand.

"I know," she said, "but we'll make it. I know we will." She smiled at him and he smiled back, eyes turning toward the floor. She got up from the bed and started for the door. A glance behind her, Micah was grabbing for his book again. He understood what she meant. He just still wasn't sure.

_**Unknown Location  
****Adam Monroe and Paul Markus**_

_PUNCH!_

Things hadn't changed much in the hour that Adam spent with Paul, but Paul's fist seemed to be weakening in the war against Adam's jaw-line. Adam's jaw began to heal again, but the pain he'd felt over the last hour was enough to hold him for a long while. "Now that that's over with... to business. I need your help."

"You expect me to help you after that?" Paul looked at him menacingly.

"It wasn't a request." Paul stood up from his chair and walked out of the line of lights, swallowed by the darkness. Sure, he'd help him - two steps over a thousand-foot cliff. Suddenly, a sickening echo went through the room and more lights turned on. The walls were bright orange with a logo in the center. "Besides, what's a few indiscrepancies between business partners, eh? Just like my dad, right?" Adam would show him the true meaning of business partner as soon as he got out of his chair.

"What is this place? Where are we?"

A roll-door to Adam's left began to open. Slowly, morning-bright sunlight began to fill the room as well as the shadow of a man standing just outside the door. Paul walked straight up to him, exchanging a few bills. "_Domo arigato_."

"Answer me!" Paul and the man looked over a moment, but turned back to each other, shaking hands and bowing accordingly. Finally, Paul came over to Adam and began to undo the rope binding him to the chair.

"A storage area just outside Tokyo, Japan," Paul said, tongue between his teeth as he concentrated to get the knots undone. As soon as the ropes fell off, though - Adam jumped on Paul's back, arm around his neck and threatening to choke him. Paul, however, was prepared. He threw himself forward, tossing Adam on the cement and grabbing for his throat but not squeezing. "Believe me, Adam, I have no problem putting you back in that grave. It would be more than justice for what you've done to my family... but I'm willing to bury the hatchet." He began to squeeze Adam's throat slightly. "So what do say, Adam? Bury the hatchet or bury the traitor? Your choice."

Adam sat silent a moment, but nodded. Paul removed his hand from Adam's throat and extended it to him. He helped Adam up and put a firm hand on his shoulder, leading him toward the roll-door. Adam looked at the hand on his shoulder in disgust, but didn't have much of a choice in the matter. "Where are we going, then?"

"My favorite town - Vegas!" Paul said with a grin. "Oh, almost forgot." Paul ran back into the storage room and grabbed a jacket from beside the chair he previously sat in. He dusted it off like a trophy and put it on delicately. A silver glittering jacket, Adam should have known.

"Didn't want to forget your bad taste?" Adam scoffed.

"Hey! This happens to be my favorite jacket!"

Adam rolled his eyes, nodding. "Of course it is." Paul grabbed him roughly under the arm and started to lead him down the Tokyo street. It was a cheap shot, of course, but it had to be said. Silver? Oh boy...

_**Tucson, Arizona  
****Billy Baker**_

There she was in the backyard, working on something he didn't recognize. She seemed to have some expertise in mechanic work the way she used that wrench on... whatever it was. Kara looked up, seeing him in the window. Immediately he backed away, feeling like he was intruding by watching her but she smiled his way and beckoned him outside. He thought about it a moment before heading for the screen door.

The Silvertons had a decent-sized backyard with a brick-and-stone patio and two picnic tables out on the grass. It was dark out by now but floodlights kept the area mildly lit. Kara worked diligently at a picnic table as Billy walked forward. "Figured you looked interested enough in what I was doing that you might as well come out here," she said, eyes still on the machinery in front of her.

"I actually was interested in figuring out what the heck that is," he said truthfully. Even up close, it didn't really look distinguishable.

She chuckled. "Our lawn mower," she said, grabbing the wrench again and fixing another connection. "Been giving us trouble to start up for the last week so I thought I'd take a look at it. It's nothing," she added quickly after the look Billy gave her.

"Seem to know your way around fixing things," Billy said, finally sitting at the table. She wiped some sweat from her brow, lodging the wrench on a bolt and started to turn it.

"It's not as hard as you might think." She gave the bolt a final turn and sighed, relieved. "When you live with Uncle Toney for as long as I have, you learn quick that you have to fix things yourself more often than not." Putting the wrench down, she sat down properly, arms folded in front of her. "So where's Jay?"

"Crashed on the couch. I think the drive might have done him in."

"Should have known. He could hardly do chores while he was here. Probably hasn't changed much since we last saw him," Kara said with a smile. Billy laughed, knowing how much truth she spoke.

"Were you two close?"

"As close as you can get to him," she said, leaning back and sighing. "Sure, we messed around when we were kids but Jay has been Jay for a long time. Never been the same after what happened to his daddy." She was looking up at the stars that were starting to show themselves. He looked up, too. Guess there were two beautiful things out tonight.

"You two still seem pretty close. I mean, what was that thing at the front door?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "Ah... Long story." Kara looked over at Billy and he nodded. Grimacing, she scooted closer to him. "He and I used to play punch buggy - punch each other every time we see a certain car pass in the road - and it was fun for a while but Jay would start to lie about seeing cars. I caught him on it, but he still wouldn't own up to it so instead of 'punch buggy' it turned into a punching contest. Long story short - before he left he punched me and I promised myself from that day forward I'd get him back." She looked proud after the story was over, but Billy had raised eyebrows. "What?"

"Kind of a funny thing to hold him on," Billy said, leaning heavily on the table. She poked him roughly in the arm, making him pull it away.

"You think your so much better, then out with it. How do you and Jay know each other?"

It was Billy's turn to grimace. "Well..." he said and, with an exhale of release, scooted closer to her. "He helped me out in a time when I really needed a friend. Ever since then we've been best friends. Watching each other's backs, you know?" He balled one of his hands into a fist. He was so close to her. She smiled.

"I don't know. Even I don't trust him completely." She leaned in closer.

"I trust him enough to watch my back," he said, him also coming closer to her. So close...

"I think you need to watch your own back." So close... "Or have someone else watch it for you."

"Who do you suggest?" He moved his hand to lean in for the kiss...

_**BANG! **_Both of them jumped backward. _Brrrrrrruuhhh..._ The motor in the lawn mower was running. Billy had moved his hand, but hit the "on" switch on the mower. Heart racing, he leaned back. He had been so close, but now it was over. Damn.

"Looks like the mower still needs a few adjustments," Kara said, pushing a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. "I probably should keep working on it."

"Yeah," Billy said, figuratively kicking himself in the gut. "Yeah, you probably should."

_RING!!_ From inside the house, they could hear the phone's first ring. "Kara! Get the phone!" came Uncle Toney's voice calling from somewhere in the house. She sighed heavily and stood up from the picnic table.

"I'm going to - "

"Go ahead," Billy said, the final hint that his moment had passed. He might as well accept it. She gave him a content smile and started for the screen door. At least he'd have more chances, he hoped. They had three days to figure out where they were going next and maybe, just maybe, he'd have a good memory to take with him. He sat and sighed, looking up at the stars. So close... and yet so far.

**_Houston, TX_**

He walked down the empty hallway, his black trench coat swaying in time behind him. Night had fallen and the building was still active, but he hadn't been detected yet. It was easy enough to enter, he'd done it so many times before. Now came the moment of truth, what he hoped was the final nail in the coffin. After he did this, there was no turning back.

Burbank entered the door, swiftly closing it behind him without a sound. In front of him was a woman lying in a hospital bed with multiple problems that only surgery and time could correct. He walked up to her and smiled. She seemed so fragile and yet still stable. Burbank stroked the hair of the unconscious Martha Baker slowly, almost lovingly. He had to admit, she didn't look bad.

Too bad he had to kill her.

Her respiratory equipment sat next to him, monitoring and keeping her breathing. The plug was only a few short inches away. He knelt down by her bed and stared at it. The easiest thing he'd have to do, a necessary precaution, and yet two minutes later he was still staring at it.

Is this what he'd become? Snuffing out hospital patients in their sleep? Was it as necessary to the job as he originally thought? Would he kill this kid's mother to draw him out to the surface? He thought about it as another full minute passed... and put his hand on the plug to the respirator.

"So be it," he whispered to himself and pulled out the plug.

He gave one last glance to her helpless form as her respirator powered down. Goodbye Martha Baker... At least she wouldn't live long enough to know what her son did to her. The vital signs on the separate monitor began to decrease rapidly and Burbank took it as his cue to leave.

As he walked back down the hallway, he thought no more of what he'd done. It had to happen. Remove all attachments and they'd coming running right into a fist. Almost too easy. He just had one thing left to do to set the trap. He pulled his cell phone out of an inside pocket. He'd already researched the phone number after the information he received that day. He already knew where to look when he was done.

_**Tuscon, Arizona  
****James Silverton**_

_**BANG!**_ He awoke with a start, eyes wide and thinking someone had shot him. His thoughts immediately went to Burbank. Scrambling groggily on the couch, his eyes darted from one end of the room to the other. Where was he? Where was Burbank? He'd never met the guy, but if he started shooting first and asking questions later maybe he never wanted to.

Then, his paranoia waned. The living room around him was empty. There were no screams of agony or terror. Everything was fine and he sighed in relief. Shaking off the shell shock, he sat up on the couch and yawned. How long had he been asleep? A glance toward the kitchen window past the counter separating the kitchen from the living room and he saw that it was night so he must have been out at least a few hours. He also saw Billy and Kara sitting on one of the picnic tables in the backyard. And, of course, even in his half-asleep state, his mind wandered to an obvious conclusion.

"Billy..." Jay said, shaking his head. Why her, Billy? Why my cousin? _RING!!_ He jumped again, but this time it was easily distinguishable. The phone on the counter in the kitchen was ringing. He'd deal with Billy later.

"Kara!" he heard from a back room. "Get the phone!" Uncle Toney, too lazy to do anything himself. This was bringing back many old memories and none of which he wanted to revisit.

"I've got it," Jay said, not calling out but almost sure that Uncle Toney heard him. He walked up to the cordless phone, picked it up, and said, "Silverton residence. Hello?"

"James?" It was an older voice, a deep guttural one he didn't recognize. Obviously, this person recognized him, though.

"Mr. Dolly? Is that you?" Mr. Dolly lived across the road and was decent to him when he'd been here. A little surprising that he'd call instead of come on over, though.

"No, kid, this ain't Mr. Dolly," the voice said, chuckling a bit, "but I'm sure your friend Mr. Baker could pick me out of a crowd."

Jay went rigid. Was he... "...Mr. Burbank?"

"Smarter than I thought you were." He sounded confident, like he was right outside the front door waiting to come in. Jay started to look around him frantically, unsure if an attack was coming towards him. And, of course, the gun had been left in the car. Damn. "Where is Mr. Baker? He and I have business to discuss."

"How did you get this number? How do you know my name?" Jay began walking slowly toward the front door, cautious of the fact that Burbank could be standing right outside of it.

"How does anyone get information they're looking for?"

"Where are you?" Jay asked. He peeked through the peephole in the front door. No one was on the front step.

"We could play twenty questions any other time," Burbank said, Jay creeping toward the back door now, "but I have a message for Mr. Baker."

"Oh yeah?" Jay retorted, trying to sound unafraid. "Well, I've got a message for you, too, creepy stalker Burbank guy! Stay away from us! I don't know who you are or who you're working for, but we haven't done anything!" Jay looked out the kitchen window as he came to it. Billy was sitting alone on the picnic table. Was that the lawn mower out there? Never mind. Billy looked fine. Good. "So, just stop chasing us! We're not admitting to anything!"

Burbank laughed a laugh that unsettled Jay even if it was just through the phone. Where was this guy? "I'm not who you think I am, James. I'm not affiliated with law enforcement... and I'm definitely not your father." Jay froze.

"What do you know about my father?"

"I know he used to beat you senseless until your mother took matters into her own hands. I am... very thorough in my research, James." A lump formed in Jay's throat. How did he know that? _Who the hell was this guy?_ "But enough about me. This is about Mr. Baker." Jay looked outside again. Billy was walking toward the house. "Tell him he doesn't have to worry about his mother anymore. The burden's been... lifted from his shoulders. Just like your father was lifted from yours." He just... Did Burbank just say what he thought he said? "If he wants to take it up with me, feel free. Come back to Austin. But if he doesn't come back, I'll come after him. And, believe me, I _will_ find him. And next time... _you_ may be the burden I lift from his shoulders. Goodbye, James." _Click._

Jay's stomach felt hollow. He'd just been told... He was frozen in place, the phone still to his ear as the dial tone rang in a limitless drone. Burbank just... He could hardly think, his mind was racing so fast, and yet he felt he couldn't think at all. ...Who was this guy?

"Who was it?" Jay turned quickly, dropping the phone with alert fists, ready to defend himself as the phone crashed to the floor. It was Kara. "Jay?" He tried to speak a few times, but nothing came out. Billy had been right when he told him about Burbank. This was much more than someone following them. This was a vendetta and Burbank would not stop until he had them.

"What's going on?" Billy joined the group standing in the kitchen. He and Kara were looking at him like they'd never seen him act like this before. Finally, though, Jay found his voice.

"That was Burbank," he said, mouth dry. Billy froze just as Jay had moments before.

"Burbank? Who's Burbank?" Kara asked, looking from one to the other with concern.

"What did he say?" Billy asked. Jay's mouth went drier. Was he about to tell his friend, one of the few he'd ever made, that his mother was...? His mind raced as he debated and rebutted in his mind the ramifications of his actions. Then...

"He's giving you one chance to go back to Austin," Jay said, the dryness extending down his throat. "Then, he's coming after us."

"Fat chance of that happening," Billy said, starting to pace back and forth in front of the kitchen sink. Jay held his tongue, forcing himself not to reveal the grim details of Billy's return. He had to keep it to himself or Billy would dive headfirst back into Austin. Jay may not have done a lot of thinking on the matter, but he knew it was better for Billy not to know.

"Who is Burbank?" Kara asked loudly.

"The guy following us," Jay said, laying it out plainly. "We don't know why." Jay turned to Billy, still pacing. "Where can we go, man?"

"I don't know."

"Well, he obviously knows we're here. We have to leave, like, now!"

"I know, Jay!" Billy stopped, staring fiercely into Jay's eyes a moment before starting to pace again.

"What is going on?!" Kara asked, hoping to be filled in on the mysterious Mr. Burbank. It was too much to tell her in too little time. They had to think of something now!

"Well, we both don't have any other family that we can go to." Jay was only slightly ignoring Kara, but she looked as though she was about to punch him again. "Maybe if we just... start heading north, we'll find - "

"Wait!" Billy stopped pacing, hands held in front of him as though he'd just reached the edge of a cliff. "I think I got it."

"Where?"

"It's a stretch, but I don't think he can find us there," Billy said, looking up at them both uncertainly.

"You _think_ or you _know_?"

"You don't have anything better, do you?" A little malevolence in his voice. Jay stared back into his eyes, doubtful, but it was the best they had. If it was someone Billy knew, they had to be trustworthy. Hopefully.

"Let's go," Jay replied. He checked his pockets for the keys to the car. They weren't there. Looking across the counter between the kitchen and living room, he saw them on the coffee table. Heading over to grab them, he heard Billy and Kara talking.

"None of this is making any sense right now," she said, arms folded in front of her.

"Look," Billy said, grabbing her by the arms, "this guy, this Burbank guy. I think he's dangerous. Odds are, he's coming here next. You and Uncle Toney should - "

"We're not leaving," Kara said with conviction. Jay knew only too well that Kara and Uncle Toney would defend their house to their last breath. He grabbed the keys from the table and turned left. Billy and Kara were kissing. He shrugged, turning away. His best friend and his cousin... yuck. "We'll be fine," Kara continued once she caught her breath. "Just go. And be careful."

"Come on, Billy!" Jay called even though they were less than ten feet away. The mushy crap was starting to give him the heebie jeebies. Billy came out to the living room and both of them headed for the front door.

"Bye Kara," Billy said, turning for a last glance.

"Bye William." She smiled and he smiled back.

"Bye, monster," Jay said, grimacing sarcastically over at Kara. She rolled her eyes, came over (him flinching), and hugged him.

"Bye, wart," Kara said, tugging roughly on his ear as she let go. They opened the front door and Billy headed outside. Jay stopped a moment as he stood on the stoop to turn around and look at Kara. She seemed to be thinking the same thing that he was. Another goodbye. She nodded warmly and he nodded back, closing the door behind him.

**_Ha_****_rtsdale, NY  
_**_**Primatech Research  
****Mohinder Suresh**_

"This isn't a very good idea," Mohinder muttered to himself.

"What was that?" The guard standing behind him edged closer. Mohinder sighed.

"Nothing." He didn't turn around, hoping that would prove his innocence. The guard still watched him intently, but backed away into a corner of the lab. This _still_ didn't seem like a very good idea. He wasn't exactly a chemist, he kept telling them, but it did _involve_ genetics and that was the reason he continued to work on it. He glanced over his shoulder to the counter top on the far left and grimaced.

There stood a bright orange liquid kept in a cold storage case until it was ready to be used. That was the big project the Company had worked on. Bob told him frequently that it was made to make dangerous abilities more tolerable, dangerous people safer towards others and themselves. A calming solution that, when infused with the blood, causes relaxation in the muscles and the brain to drift at will. Less usage of the brain means less usage of the ability, and less usage of a dangerous ability is exactly what the Company wanted. So it seemed, at least.

Maybe he had grown pessimistic in his vision of what the Company did, but Mohinder was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. A breakout, a disease, mass mayhem - something that occurred because of what the Company was doing, but nothing had happened yet. In fact, everything was looking fine. Maury Parkman's vitals were stable, the testing of his blood with the solution proved a success, and he seemed to be completely ready for the test Bob was asking for. Still, Mohinder felt a need to pause.

**We contemplate, we prepare, but are we ready for what is to come?**

He finished writing on a clear, plastic clipboard, put it down on the counter near the solution, and walked toward the door. "Where do you think you're going?" the guard said, stepping toward him.

"I'm taking a short break," Mohinder said. "Unless you have a problem with that." He reached for the doorknob, but the guard put a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at the sneering guard slowly.

"You can't go anywhere," the guard said with narrowed eyes, "if you don't have the key for the elevator." Mohinder sighed, nodding.

"Right, the elevator key," Mohinder replied, continuing out the door with the guard right behind him.

-x-

**Our lives revolve around the schedules we keep, but can we cope with the unexpected?**

Once on the upper levels, Mohinder began down a now familiar hallway toward the stairs. He nodded at each nameless individual he passed quickly as he sped past them. A glance behind him showed that the guard from downstairs stayed at the elevator like he always did. Good, exactly as planned.

Opening the door to the staircase, his heart leaped as he nearly ran headfirst into Bob Bishop himself. "How are the precautions going, Dr. Suresh?" Bob said with a smile. Mohinder gulped.

"They're going well," he said as Bob started through the door into the hallway. "The official test should be able to begin as planned tomorrow."

"Good." Bob laid a heavy hand on Mohinder's shoulder and gave it a fatherly squeeze. Mohinder nodded and headed through the doorway to the staircase. "Dr. Suresh." He stopped, his foot poised on the first step and head turning around to meet Bob's gaze. "Phenomenal work. We'll all be happier when all of this is over." Mohinder nodded in agreement and, without another thought, started up the stairs. He knew Bob's eyes were still upon him, but that wasn't a huge surprise. Bob always seemed to be watching him.

-x-

"Mohinder!" Molly Walker jumped up from her bed as soon as he walked in and hugged him furiously. He grinned sympathetically, hugging her back. "Are you done yet, Mohinder? Can we go back home?" She beamed up at him, eyes alight.

"Not yet, Molly," Mohinder said with slight contempt. She had started to ask it frequently lately and it stuck into his heart every time he denied it to her. She shrugged and went back over to her bed. "How was school today?"

"Okay," she said, rolling her eyes a bit. "We learned about... bugs..." She made a disgusted face. "I didn't like it very much."

"Oh, you didn't?" Mohinder said, coming over to sit next to her. She shook her head, hardly concealing the smile on her face.

"They're gross. And..." She beckoned Mohinder closer. He leaned in to oblige. "I think the security guy who picks me up from school used to be a bug." Mohinder laughed.

"That's highly unlikely... but you never know." He sighed, getting a good look at her. She was starting to grow and it showed. What was he going to do when she turned fourteen? Eighteen? Would he even still be around or would the Company take hold of her? The questions filled his head like a pitcher ready to tip over. And no matter how many more came, the hardest one to face still plagued him - would she ever officially be his daughter?

He sighed, his gaze trailing away. The Company wasn't going to make it easy, but it was going to happen. And even if it didn't, he'd still love her. She wasn't his daughter, but he still would care for her just the same.

**Will we take the necessary precautions?**

"We're not going to be here much longer. You know that, right, Molly?" The smile on her face fell a little. He put a hand under her chin and tipped it up. She smiled. "We're going to go back to the apartment. And we'll live happily ever after."

"When?"

Mohinder grinned. "Soon." Molly grinned back and he sighed gratefully. He was going to get them out of there, one way or another.

_**Unknown Room  
****Primatech Research**_

"Now, where's your homework? Have you started yet?" Mohinder said to Molly through the video feed.

"No... Do I have to?" Molly replied. Mohinder flicked at her nose with a finger.

**Or have they already been taken for us?**

"You're sure that things are moving at a deliberate pace," Angela asked while staring into the screens. Her lips were pressed tightly together and her gloved hands held her elbows. She was concerned. She didn't need to be.

"Everything's moving swiftly, Angela," Bob said with a smile. "You shouldn't worry so much."

"Better to caution than to throw it to the wind, Robert." He winced. He hated when she called him Robert.

"Have you been up to see Nathan yet?"

She nodded. "The doctor said he was stabilizing." She shook her shoulders, brushing off the uncertainties. "He's going to be fine. What he will become after this... that's the real question."

"Always worried about where your children are going," Bob commented.

She turned to look at him, eyes soft. "I like to look toward the future, Robert." He winced again. "There's nothing wrong with making sure it's stable." She turned back toward the screens, sighing. "How is Elle?"

"She's on the Sylar case with Bennett," Bob said, rocking back-and-forth on his heels slightly. "They're close."

"Hopefully, not too close." Bob opened his mouth to answer, but stopped himself. He knew it was a leading response and he chose not to reply to it. He was just as good a parent as she was and he didn't appreciate the remark.

"She's fine." And she was. Angela thinking anything different was ridiculous. He looked over at her and she nodded contently.

"Do we need to make any precautions to make sure Suresh and Molly Walker stay put?" Angela asked, eyes following Dr. Suresh's every move on the monitor.

"No need, Angela," Bob replied, "They've already been made. Dr. Suresh isn't going anywhere." A small smile crept onto Angela's face and Bob relaxed. He stared into the monitor also, the hidden eyes watching over the clever doctor.

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


End file.
